#brother agrees that it’s better written despite his sentimental feelings toward the first

[chibinekochan]

How to become a Demon Ruler 210

Part: 00 I 01 I 02 I 03 I 04 I 05 I 06 I 07 I 08 I 09 I

Gender Neutral Reader insert

taglist: @ayesha95 ; @nomnomcupcakesworld ; @fex-phoenix ; @depressed-bixch ; @kitsune-oji ; @witch-o-memes ; @gallantys ,@tanspostsblog ; @undertaker-02 ,

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At some point, I wake up. I hear the sounds of soft snoring beside me.

I laugh as I see Diavolo sprawled out on my bed, fast asleep.

I'm still a bit sluggish but I feel much better. It really must've been exhaustion that made me sick. I wonder how long I slept and carefully get out of bed. Tiptoeing around to not wake Diavolo. He looks kinda cute like this. It's hard not to poke his cheek when he is looking so peaceful.

I look at the clock and realize that my classes have already started. For a moment I panic when I see a note on the clock.

You are taking today off to get better.

I asked the brothers to bring you today's homework later.

-Diavolo

I smile at the poorly written note, he probably did it in the dark with only his phone light.

I suppose I should go and take a shower now. Even if I'm resting today I feel somewhat sticky.

Just when I'm about to turn around I see Diavolo opening his eyes. He looks at me with sleepy eyes.

"Good morning. You can keep lying. I will take a shower." Somehow this feels nice. Waking up like this, besides him.

"Good morning. Are you feeling better?" His voice sounds muffled, he must be still waking up.

"Yes, thanks to your great care I'm feeling much better." I show him an energetic smile.

"I'm glad." He smiles at me. "I guess I'm doing pretty okay for a big brother after all." He still seems to be half asleep but these words hurt more than I expected.

"You do." I press the words out. "I will take my shower now." I rush to the bathroom.

I'm a true fool after all. Not only can't I see Diavolo as my brother but my feelings for him only grow.

Then there is also the fight between him and Barbatos that troubles me greatly. Both of them are very important to me.

Liking two people like this at the same time is serious trouble. Especially since they both see me as master and sibling respectively.

What a mess. I could use some real advice.

I sigh and step into the shower. Trying to clear my head while cleaning my body.

It's refreshing and the thought of breakfast makes me forget my other troubles for now.

I dress and go back into my room.

Diavolo is sitting on my bed. He must need a long time to wake up. It's endearing somehow. I sigh at myself, I need to stop this.

"Ah, you are done. Breakfast came while you were away. Shall we eat together?" Diavolo stands up and walks to the already set table. It doesn't look like Barbatos work, it's somehow rather sloppily done.

"Of course, but why won't we eat in the normal room?" It seems a bit strange to me.

"Well, that is because I don't wish to see Barbatos right now. I had No. 2 serve us breakfast today." Diavolo is still hung up on what happened yesterday.

"You know that you have to see him eventually, right?" It seems somewhat childish to me, even when I understand how much this must've shaken Diavolo to his core.

"I know, but not now." He sighs and sits down at the table.

I shake my head, I need to help them to make up.

We both eat in relative silence.

Diavolo seems to have a lot on his mind and so do I.

After we are done he looks at me with a grave expression. "I fear that I have work to do."

I saw this coming. "I'm much better so you don't need to worry. I will just rest until I get my homework. I need to catch up on devil tube. Yesterday the demon brothers told me all about it." I gently reassure Diavolo.

"I'm glad to hear that. I will make sure the brothers will give you your homework and you promise that you will stay here." He looks at me pleading.

"I won't move. I promise." It's easy to agree with him since I'm still a bit tired after all.

Diavolo nods and pats my head. As nice as it feels he seems to think of me as a child or something of that nature.

It's frustrating.

"I will trust you. Get as much rest as you can. If you feel in any way off by the evening you will take tomorrow off as well." Diavolo is usually stern with me.

"Alright." I know he is only worried and so I agree.

This seems to relieve him a little bit at least.

Diavolo then looks at me one more time before returning to his duties.

I lay on my bed, scrolling on my phone through some comments under devil tube videos when I hear a knock on my door.

"Come in ," I yell.

The door is slowly opened and I see Barbatos peeking his head in. "I'm not sure if you wish to see me but I felt the need to apologize to you in person." He looks very pale like he didn't sleep at all.

"I want to see you, don't be silly and just for the records I don't blame you at all." I smile at him to strengthen my point.

Barbatos steps into my room, closing the door behind him. He has a cart with snacks and tea.

Probably his way of apologizing to me.

He slowly makes his way towards me. Then he pauses a good distance away from me as if being close to me would be a bother to me.

"It's my fault since I should have seen it. Not just because I should've been able to see that future but also because it was so obviously dangerous. I can't state enough how much I have failed you." His face looks like it's frozen or rather like he is in deep pain.

"Even if you were there you couldn't prevent any possible outcome. I mean there is always a small chance I die. Humans are fragile after all. I could slip on the bathroom or something. It's not possible for you to protect me 24/7 and to be honest, that wouldn’t be what I want. I need to do my own thing and I like to be alone too." I try to approach this from a logical angle.

"That might be true, but I always prevented any likely harm to you. I always tried to lead you down the path of least likely harm." Barbatos seems to have a hard time telling me this.

Now a few of his strange requests make sense.

"So you were saving me without me even knowing it? Thank you for that." It's very nice of him for sure.

Barbatos nods. "Sadly for some reason, my ability seems to weaken when it comes to you. I'm not sure why. Usually, nobody is capable of surprising me at all but you somehow always do." A short-lived smile appears on his face.

"I see but then you are even less to blame. No matter what you think I don't blame you at all." I can understand his guilt but I miss the old Barbatos.

"I appreciate the sentiment but honestly I was thinking of stepping down as your butler. I can't serve you properly." His face mirrors deep pain.

I also gasp at his words. "There is no way that I'm willing to accept this!" I raise my voice.

Barbatos seems to be taken aback. "But master, I cannot give you the full protection that you need. I failed you."He is serious.

I can't just let Barbatos quit. His duty is so important to him and he always works so hard to make me and Diavolo happy. Even when that also creates a gap between us.

"I can't stop you, but I will not accept another butler or maid to serve me." I look at him with determination.

"But Master, you need someone to serve you." Barbatos frowns.

I cross my arms. "Too bad, if I have to have a servant it can only be the best and that is you." I'm stubborn but I'm also right.

Barbatos sighs, he seems conflicted. "Even master Diavolo told me it would be better if I wouldn't come near you anymore." These words seem to hurt him.

"Diavolo is just very scared that this might happen again. I think it's easy enough to prevent though. And regardless of his feelings, my trust in you is unmoved." I voice my feelings for him.

the

Barbatos closes his eyes. There must be many things running through his head right now.

"Be honest, would you want anyone else to serve me?" I know his answer could hurt and I brace myself for that possibility.

Barbatos opens his eyes, they aren't wavering at all. "No." Then he pauses a moment. "I would not like that one bit. I believe I'm the best to serve you." His pride as a butler has not been broken at least.

I nod. "I feel the same way. Even if you can't see every possible future I want to keep you as my butler. I care deeply about you and there just can't be anyone else." I let my true feelings slip a little bit but it looks like my words reach him.

He smiles gently and steps closer. He kneels on the ground just before my bed. His eyes focus on me.

My cheeks grow hot. He is so close.

"May I keep being your butler despite my countless failings?" He asks in a very humble-sounding voice.

"You may, in fact, I order you to do so." I do my best-spoiled brat expression.

Barbatos then takes my hand and kisses the back of it. His lips feel cold but pleasant.

"I swear I will do whatever I can for you. Whatever order you give me will be fulfilled." Barbatos is earnest, this exchange is very intimate. I can feel the weight of his promise.

"I gladly accept you as my butler but don't forget that I also see you as a friend." And potentially more but I don't mention that part.

Barbatos nods and smiles softly. "Thank you for your kindness."

At least he seems more normal now, but the rift between him and Diavolo is still very much there. I need to think of a plan.

But first I want to eat the delicious snacks that Barbatos has brought me.

"Why don't you join me for some tea?" I feel like it's been forever since I saw him.

He looks a bit surprised for a moment. "Very well, I have some time for that." Then he smiles and prepares the table for us.

I slowly stand up and sit down across from him. The treats all look so good. "With what should I start?" I ask this more to myself.

"I recommend these fresh hell berry tarts, they are best when still slightly cold." Barbatos points to them.

They look very good. "Alright, I will start with them."I take one to my plate and take a bite. "Wow, you were not exaggerating. This is the best tart I ever had." I pretty much have stars in my eyes. It is that good.

Barbatos chuckles. "It was well worth the time I spent then."

"Did you see this in one of your visions too?" Now you wonder if all the food was so good because of that.

"No, as I said my ability isn't working on you and I'm quite confident in my skills. I was certain you would enjoy this. Even when I didn't expect you to love it this much." He smiles at me full of confidence.

I like this Barbatos much better. "I always love your food. I might become the avatar of gluttony at this point." I laugh.

"You still are far away from that plus it's good when you enjoy your food this much." He smiles gently.

"If I'm becoming fat you take responsibility." I tease him slightly.

He simply nods. "I will."

I didn't expect this straightforward

It's somehow embarrassing so I just continue eating to avoid that feeling.

Barbatos seems to just watch me the entire time. I'm about to complain about that when he suddenly touches my cheek.

My cheeks heat up instantly. It was just a light touch that didn't even last longer than a second but it still surprised me.

"You had some cream there." He smiles sheepishly at me and licks his finger.

This feels very intimate to me. "You should eat the tart instead of the cream on my face." I try to hide my ever-hot cheeks and ever-growing emotions.

"You are right but it might taste better this way." Barbatos nonchalantly takes a tart of his own.

"You are pretty cheeky sometimes." I mostly blurt this out, but it is true.

"Only to those close enough to me." Barbatos calmly looks at me after saying such words. My heart skips several beats.

I'm happy that he feels this way about me. Though it's still bugging me that he always manages to embarrass me. He isn't as bad as Diavolo in that regard but he is very troublesome in his own right.

Then suddenly I see an opportunity for payback.

I quickly seize my chance and wipe a bit of cream off his lip. His surprised face alone makes it all worth it.

He simply stares at me, mouth agape.

"You had some cream there." I smile and lick the cream off my finger.

Barbatos cheeks turn crimson, a full success. At least until I realize that this can count as an indirect kiss.

Now we are both embarrassed.

So I guess it ends in a tie today.

#demon ruler 101 #demon ruler 201 #omswd #om! #obey me fanfic #how to become a demon ruler #obey me diavolo #om! swd

[jiangwanyinscatmom]

From @ednamrenee 's comments that are way too wonderful and insightful to keep to the notes only and I'll try to go point by point with this since there is so much I agree to with this (excuse the messy thoughts as I go)

Lol, and I enjoy hearing the perspectives of those who have a harsher take on JC than me. 😂 I agree with you re: CQL, it definitely didn't seem to know where to put JC's character, which is a shame because he's a very interesting one. I don't mind if CQL-onlies want to that to that version, media consumption being a very personal experience and all that, but if I have to read one more interpretation like JC thought the life-debt between WQ and him was paid..

I do think that it's a detriment to the adaptions closer to the novel and the AU that CQL is to be so heavily tied together into the western fandom. Since they are so different from each other they really can't be compared to each other. The characters are not alike which lends to the very out of place interpretations that become so heavily popular.

...when he got her out of prison, I'm gonna go insane. Never mind that it's not what happened in novel canon (or even donghua canon, I don't remember about the manhua), never mind that it was an added scene to go forth with the one-sided JC/WQ thing, never mind that even if it had been canon, it in no way balances the life-debt JC owed the Wen siblings (and I'm not even considering the golden core transfer, we can't hold over him what he doesn't know).

In terms of the debt he owed even with the awkward romance they tried to make, if it was "payed back" it does not excuse him from essentially hiding that away and letting it be buried under the calls to exterminate all Wens. It does not erase the fact that they had helped, and he chose to just not expand upon this when their safety was at stake out of, I suppose, petty jealousy of Wei Wuxian (I really don't know what CQL was going for with his resentment towards Wei Wuxian since he'd had that since he was young. But, it also makes whatever love he did have for Wen Qing and Wei Wuxian so much more shallow then it was in the novel and starkly more cruel for a character they tried to humanize while keeping the novel points skewing the themes of Jiang Cheng as a character.

It just feels like a sorry understanding of life-debts and that's why culturally huge thing, so...no? Don't do that? It's fine having JC not pay much attention to the debts. It makes him interesting, it makes him coldly pragmatic over valuing even things that his own culture holds dear. It's a great trait, and even a good one for a leader maybe. I am up for JC deviating for the norm when it's about such virtues while WWX sticks to them, and JC wasn't exactly sneering...

Yes! This is Jiang Cheng as a character at his simplest and why I personally find him fascinating! He is pragmatic and cold to a fault that works well in the cultivation world MDZS set up, however, it doesn't work the same in CQL when you have the boogyman story of the Yin Iron as the root of all bad instead. The character actions no longer line up with the theme of the original work since so much emphasis is placed on a piece of metal ruining everything instead of the cruelty of humans alone.

...at the mo dao until it put him in a politically delicate situation. That's fine! Interesting character traits! But like. Fanon perception more often than not strips all of these from him and that's just unacceptable to me. I'm not even going to speak of the entire genocide thing, despite knowing about the innocence of the Wens and how they're just feeble old people and women and children.

The bleed over of CQL trying to make Jiang Cheng softer in his youth made headcanons with no true base for it in his behavior as an adult a lot more muddied. As an adult in any adaption, he's not really shown to have any positive sort of sentimentality towards Wei Wuxian. Certainly with Jin Ling in CQL it implied heavily that he did hit him just like Madam Yu to Wei Wuxian, where at least in the novel he was just... a very aggressively, unkind, cruel uncle that spoiled his nephew and gave in with that cycle of negative action over progressive action (The massive narrative mirror between how Jiang Cheng and Lan Wangji raised a child left to them suddenly). He was not sorry for the hand he took in killing the Wens, he blamed them for taking his right hand man away and putting his sect, in what he thought, was unneeded trouble, morals be damned like his mother. Like she had said about Lan Wangji and Jin Zixuan, they stuck their head too high and they brought death upon themselves for talking back to a higher power for acting on their kindness over politics.

(Lol, this got long, sorry!) I absolutely agree that in terms of interpersonal relationships, Jin Ling is the only one with whom Jiang Cheng can begin to grow. The thing about the Yunmeng brothers is that whatever was between them is now tainted by bad blood (quite literally) on both sides, both of them have hurt each, knowingly or unknowingly. Both of them are a source for mental stress for each other, that's canon for any adaptation.

I understand the urge to want a rosier, I guess, take on this. I'm more used to the novel interpretations and neither ever really use the wording of being like family, or brothers, this was left to Jiang Yanli specifically calling Wei Wuxian her brother as the only Jiang to do that. The barrier of their social class is still a backbone of Jiang Cheng's possessiveness in thinking Wei Wuxian was his to order about as a sect leader twisting the innocent promise Wei Wuxian gave. But both don't associate anything positive with the other anymore. Wei Wuxian certainly isn't sentimental for Yunmeng Jiang as a home when he is resurrected or Jiang Cheng. He was planning to run off in the opposite direction of it to start as someone new! That does not read to me as pining or love anymore for the past (and I've written a piece before how CQL sanitized his longing of Lan Wangji solely by replacing it with Lotus Pier want and Jiang Yanli as a parental figure).

Can we not act like "ohh it's just miscommunication, they're both just dumb and horrible at feelings". It's not that simple. MXTX establishes this painstakingly, and just loving someone has never been the point. YZY loved JC too, she still managed to mess up his head. Love isn't the point, which sounds very hurtful I know, but it's also true. Reconciliation after all this bad blood takes a huge amount of emotional labour on both parts.

I can not reiterate enough that love was not the only thing needed between the Yunmeng siblings. None of them really ever understood each other and had different wants. Jiang Cheng never understood Wei Wuxian and his fascination of Lan Wangji out of discomfort. He did not accept whatever was going on there and later used it as shaming fodder. Both have done an unforgivable disservice to the other and really, nothing can mend old hurts as bad as they were. The kindest option is to leave each other alone and move on with a happier life for the self. The codependency of this is more than disturbing when used in reconciliation material especially for Wei Wuxian who was never that and is the one who actively asked for Jiang Cheng to move on, because he does not have the will to extend the effort of rebuilding a relationship anymore. It's a very human response to a broken relationship and not cruel, it just is a realistic view of a bad relationship that always ended for the worst when they tried to talk. Their own ideals are nothing alike and clash, they are not what the other needs and Wei Wuxian by the end of the novel is ready to leave it and move on with others without Jiang Cheng.

And, never apologize for long thoughts! I love it! This is why I very much enjoy interactions on here that are productive. Seriously I am a Jiang Cheng fan, I am just not into the gum drop sweetness for reconciliation. They are a disservice to him and his end that can better him without the crutch of Wei Wuxian there, which is exactly how his resentment spawned in the first place. He has a chance to do better by himself on his own terms, that doesn't need to be ruined with a codependent bond that had been forced and very one-sided in the end and remained as that for 13 years.

#mdzs #mo dao zu shi #jiang cheng #I do love him as the antagonist he is #wei wuxian

[chroniccombustion]

Things I’ll Never Say

From “And a Week is All I Need (To Fall in Love With You)“, part of @souyoweek2020​

Genre: romance, mutual pining,  dorks in love, M/M Rated: K+ Characters: Souji Seta (Yu Narukami), Hanamura Yosuke, Tatsumi Kanji, brief Dojima Nanako cameo Warnings: mild language Status: drabble collection, incomplete

<- previous chapter | next chapter ->

(song the title is from)

Day 2: Yosuke’s Birthday or Sunny

“Kanji...” he whispers, voice hoarse and cracking slightly at the end. “The other day, when you came over... was there a stack of colored envelopes on my desk?”

Confused silence greets him for a moment. Then, “Uh.... I think so? Pretty sure I remember seein' it.” He paused. “Why? Did I leave it there or somethin'? I swear I thought I grabbed it with the rest of the gifts...”

Souji's heart goes plummeting through his feet. “You... grabbed that one, too...?”

“This everything, Senpai?”

Souji looks up from where he's busy tucking a birthday card into a burnt-orange envelope – one that he folded extra-special just for this purpose. Grey eyes scan over the pile of other cards and small packages resting on his desk, taking stock of everything to make sure it's all there. After a moment he nods. “It should be, yeah.”

He stands from his spot behind the low work table and takes a moment to smile quietly down at the envelope in his hands before turning a wider smile towards the person standing across the room. “Thanks again, Kanji,” he says warmly, and the way the taller boy blushes faintly isn't lost on him. It's cute, Souji thinks, and maybe in another timeline where he wasn't already hopelessly in love with someone else, he might very well have been able to return the crush he knows his friend has on him. But that's neither here nor there, and as it stands Souji knows all too well how it feels to have his affections go unreturned. Even if he's much better at hiding them than Kanji is.

The punk mumbles something Souji can't quite make out but thinks might be a, “don't gotta thank me.”

He laughs quietly, gently. “I mean it,” he says, “there's no way I'd be able to hide all this where Yosuke wouldn't find it somehow; my room, ah...” He glances around with a soft chuckle, waving a hand at the open space. “I don't really have a lot of extra storage.”

Kanji looks like he's about to reply – probably to wave off Souji's thanks again – but anything he might have said is interrupted by a sweet voice calling from downstairs. “Onii-chan!” The sound of small footsteps padding down the hallway precedes a gentle knock at the door. “Onii-chan? Are you home?”

Souji chuckles, affectionate and soft, and calls, “I'm home. Come on in.”

Nanako needs no further invitation. The door swings open and a pigtailed head peeks in, brown eyes bright. “Onii-chan, Daddy says he's coming home tonight! Will you help me make dinner? Oh!” she gasps, pure delight spreading over her face as she spots kanji near the desk. “Hello!” She looks over at a still-smiling Souji, then back to Kanji, and practically beams. “Are you staying for dinner, too?”

“Would you like to?” Souji asks, quieter than his exuberant little sister but no less genuine. It's been a while since anyone other than Yosuke has been over in the evenings, and Souji finds he wouldn't mind at all if his rough-around-the-edges underclassman stayed and let Souji feed him. After all, Kanji agreed to hiding the pile of birthday gifts so Yosuke doesn't go snooping through his partner's room for them (though Souji is still a little irritated as to just why he knows Yosuke won't be poking around at Kanji's house to look for gifts). At the very least, he'd like to do something to show Kanji his thanks, since the blond doesn't seem inclined to let him say it.

But Kanji has gone from blushing to an odd shade of purple, fingers scratching as the back of his own hair as he ducks his head to the side and down. Souji at first interprets this as 'cuteness overload', because honestly, who does Nanako not have that effect on? But no. Rather than mutter about how adorable Nanako is like he usually does, Souji hears Kanji instead mutter something unintelligible – with the only discernible words being “Dojima” and “staring at me.” And oh. Well. Souji is disappointed, yes, but he does understand; if his uncle weren't coming home then Kanji likely would have agreed, but there is still an awkwardness between the pair of them, mostly out of yet-unbroken habit. So Souji just gives his friend a knowing smile and says, “You need to get home, don't you?” When Kanji looks up at him, Souji nods in gentle understanding. “Your mom?” he adds, giving the other boy an out that won't alert Nanako.

Kanji's eyes widen for a moment as he catches on, then straightens. “Y-yeah!” he says a bit too loud and a bit too quick. “I mean! My ma's probably waitin' on me.”

Nanako visibly deflates and Kanji looks like he's ready to combust, so once again, Souji steps in. “It's alright,” he says at them both as he reaches down to ruffle Nanako's hair. “Another night this week, maybe?” He quirks a stormy-grey brow, lips twitching upwards in a tiny smirk. “I'll bring leftovers for lunch tomorrow, too; you should come sit with me.”

And oh, if Kanji's face doesn't simultaneously light up and flush a bright, dusty red at that. “Ah heck yeah!” he manages to crow past his blush, and it's absolutely great. Souji has to bite back a triumphant smile because he will feed his friend in thanks for his help whether it be tonight or tomorrow. He'll make extra food later on if he has to, just to have enough to bring to school.

In the end, without really looking, Kanji hurriedly shovels the stack of gifts and cards into the paper sack Souji had brought out for him to use, and Souji and Nanako walk him to the front door to see him out. Kanji loiters for an extra five minutes while Nanako hugs him tightly, and Souji thanks Kanji again where he knows his friend can't really dispute the sentiment with Nanako there to back her brother up. Kanji is a good friend, and Souji almost feels bad about the taller boy's crush, what with Souji's constant need to make sure everyone around him is happy, but even if Souji can't return his kohai's affections he sure as hell can let him know he's appreciated. So with Kanji still sporting a blush and Nanako finally letting him go so he can escape, Souji says a last goodbye to the soft-hearted punk, watching him head up the road for a few moments to make sure he'll be alright heading home.

It's not until several days later that he realizes something is horribly amiss.

---

Souji's crush on his best friend started early. If asked, he wouldn't be able to put his finger on an exact date or pick out an exact event that sparked it. It just... happened. Yosuke was his partner, a new friend that Souji had hoped he'd be able to keep, but it was nothing deeper than platonic affection - until it was.

Without warning it had crept up on him, until Souji found he couldn't remember a time when he wasn't in love with the friendly brunette. Yosuke was charming, funny, kind, and despite his flaws (the least of which being the boy's uncanny ability to lodge his own foot in his mouth at the worst of times), Souji had never met another person besides Nanako that he'd clicked with so well.

Which was why it had been getting harder and harder for him to keep his feelings to himself. Back when he'd been living in the city, well before his parents had sent him to Inaba and then given in to his begging to let him stay for his final year of high school, Souji had kept a journal. Every time he'd had an emotion, a thought, a welling-up of something inside him that screamed to be let out but had no safe outlet for him to do so, Souji would sit down at his desk and pour out everything he couldn't say onto the paper. He'd filled up the entire journal within the span of a year.

So he'd started another. And then another. And then he'd moved to Inaba and quickly filled up the last half of that third journal with his secret worry over the murder cases. He'd filled another, thinner journal after that one, too, until he'd run out of both paper and fear and anger and stress to fill it with. He'd thought he was done.

But then he'd fallen in love with Yosuke.

He'd tried starting yet another journal, just to dedicate to how much he was pining (yes, pining, he could admit it to himself, at least) over the best friend he'd ever had. But after he'd finally found the perfect one, cover bright with colors like summer, he'd sat down to touch his pen to the first page and... nothing. For the first time in his life, Souji hadn't been able to put his emotions into words.

For several weeks he would try and start all over again, thinking maybe if he gave himself enough time to think more about what he wanted to say then the words would come easier. He'd get maybe a sentence or two in, reread it, and then grow frustrated with himself for yet another failed attempt. His breakthrough finally came while working on some translations for one of his part time jobs – a letter, written from a high school student to a foreign girl her family had hosted as part of an exchange program. In her letter she'd anxiously confessed her feelings, hopeful they could meet again someday. By the time he went to bed Souji had every word of the letter burned permanently into his brain, and the moment he was free from school the next day he had gone straight to the shopping district and bought himself a pretty, pastel orange stack of stationary, sunflowers drawn in delicate lines across the bottom of each page.

Writing had suddenly become much easier after that. In the form of a letter, where Souji could pretend he was talking directly to the object of his affections rather than just about, he found that he could burn through nearly a dozen pages front and back in a little under a weekend. He'd had to make two more trips to the shop to get more packs of stationary because, while pretty and perfect for inspiring words of love and hopeless devotion, the flowers on the paper were hand-drawn and so there just weren't that many sheets in the package. At some point, Souji had just given in and bought three packs at once to save himself another venture into town.

The stack of letters grew; some were short, filled with simple things like, “you smiled at me today during lunch and I nearly forgot how to breathe,” and some where longer, detailing the way the setting sun had shone behind them at the riverbank and“made you look ethereal.” As he finished them, one by one, Souji would tuck them safely away in one of his homemade envelopes – all in sunset colors and tied together in a bundle with red string. The bundle stayed on his desk, off to the side where it wouldn't be in the way but still close enough that he could reach for it to add another record of his secret love.

Which is why, three days after Kanji had left with the pile of gifts, on the evening of Yosuke's birthday, when Souji goes to write out an entire day's worth of ache and longing and reaches for the bundle of letters so he can add the newly finished one to the rest only to find it missing, he abruptly has a heart attack.

He has a second one twenty minutes later as he stands in the middle of his now gutted bedroom with absolutely no sign of them anywhere. Books and folders lay scattered from where they'd been yanked from his desk and tossed out of the way onto the futon, only for the futon to also be pulled aside and dumped haphazardly across the work table. He'd gone so far as to (quietly) pull both the couch and the desk away from the walls to see if somehow his heart on paper had been lodged between them and the furniture – all to no avail.

He stares at his ransacked surroundings, wracking his brain to try and think of any other place they could be. They wouldn't be downstairs anywhere; neither Nanako nor Dojima have any reason or desire to go through his things. They wouldn't be in his school bag, either, because Souji would sooner walk straight into the Samegawa and let it drown him than take something so dangerous and valuable anywhere near where Yosuke could happen upon it. In fact, Souji had made it a point in times past to hide the letters behind his textbooks on the desk whenever Yosuke came over, and even though Yosuke had spent plenty of time digging around for Souji's “stash,” he'd steered well clear of the study materials. No, there's no place else in the house or out of it that the bundle could be.

No place else except one.

Souji's hands are shaking so badly that he's already almost dropped the phone twice before he manages to scroll through his contacts and successfully locate the name that he prays to every single god imaginable will tell him he's wrong.

“Yo, Senpai, what's up?”

“Kanji...” he whispers, voice hoarse and cracking slightly at the end. “The other day, when you came over... was there a stack of colored envelopes on my desk?”

Confused silence greets him for a moment. Then, “Uh.... I think so? Pretty sure I remember seein' it.” He pauses. “Why? Did I leave it there or somethin'? I swear I thought I grabbed it with the rest of the gifts...”

Souji's heart goes plummeting through his feet. “You... grabbed that one, too...?”

(Nonononono, this wasn't happening, this couldn't be happening!)

Kanji hums on the other end of the speaker. “I mean, I thought I did. I didn't check the bag after I got it home, though... Is somethin' wrong, Senpai?”

Souji hears his own voice, hears himself saying, “N... no. No, nothing's wrong. Thanks, Kanji,” but he can't actually feel the words leaving his mouth. His arm falls limp against his side then, and his fingers act on muscle memory, flipping the phone closed and hanging up the call.

Okay. Okay okay okay, he thinks, trying to keep himself grounded long enough to sort through his own head. The situation is grim, yes, but not hopeless. Yosuke's birthday celebration had been earlier that evening; school had eaten up the first half of the day and both Teddie and Yukiko were on a limited time frame due to work at Junes and the inn, respectively, so there hadn't been much time to do anything other than grab an early dinner together at Aiya's. It had given Kanji and Rise time to run back home and retrieve the bag of gifts and the batch of artisan cupcakes the pop idle had special-ordered in from a shop in Okina and picked up the day before.

The Team had piled into a little corner in the restaurant, laughing and eating and wishing their friend a happy birthday until it was time for Yukiko and Teddie to leave, with Chie offering to escort her girlfriend home. Up until that point, though, they'd all been so busy that Yosuke had forgotten to open any of his presents. And so, not wanting to open anything without the whole group there for him to thank, he'd decided to just take the sack home with him for the time being, with everyone agreeing to meet up at Souji's place the next day after school for Birthday Dinner Round 2.

So. The bad news: Yosuke more than likely has Souji's stack of love letters that were never meant to see the light of day. Alright. Yes. That is utterly goddamn terrifying.

The good news, however, is that he hadn't opened them before, and probably won't open them until they all get together tomorrow. There is still a chance that Souji could get them back without incident – either by waiting until Yosuke is distracted and sneaking the letters back out of the sack of presents, or by telling Yosuke the partial truth, that Kanji had grabbed something by mistake and could I have those back, please, Partner? Yosuke didn't have to know what they were; Souji could simply say that they were letters from his parents from over the years of them being away while Souji stayed either alone or with other people.

Only... Shit. Yosuke already knows that Souji's parents don't actually write to him. Maybe he could say they were from years ago and he was keeping them for sentimentality's sake and putting them in pretty new envelopes. Or! He could say it's stuff he wrote to them but never sent, because that was marginally closer to the truth, wasn't it? But all of that could be a last resort if he isn't able to just steal the letters back and---!

Someone is calling him.

Souji's careening train of thought comes to a screeching halt as his phone begins to vibrate in his hand, the quiet chirping of his ringtone now like a shout into his ears.

He winches, both from the noise and from the whiplash of being sucked back out of his own head, and, on reflex, he brings the offending piece of technology up to his face to look at the screen.

And then immediately jerks back in panic and chucks his phone across the room where it lands on the futon now decorating his work table.

“Oh god no...”

Yosuke is calling him.

Yosuke is calling him and Souji has no plan of action and no way of knowing if he's already too late to stop the tidal wave of destruction that may or may not be headed his way, and ohhhhh he's hyperventilating now, isn't he? Yes. Yes, he most certainly is.

The chirping finally stops just as Souji's vision starts to haze over with white, leaving his ears ringing with its echos for a good few seconds in the sudden quiet of the room. He can hear his own breathing, the thumping of his pulse through his temples and his neck, but with the silence now hanging heavy over his shoulders he finds himself more grounded than he'd been just moments ago. He sighs, shaking out his arms to try and release some of the tension that's been curling tightly in his limbs, and as the quiet stretches on, he feels his hammering heartbeat begin to slow once more.

It takes him ten minutes to feel like a human again. Still jittery but no longer feeling as if he's going to go blind from lack of oxygen, Souji sighs and starts over towards where his phone rests halfway off his displaced futon, leaning down to check and see if it's intact. It's a mistake; no sooner than he's bent over enough to pick up the phone, there comes a muffled scraping sound, like something moving out on the roof. It's followed by a quiet 'thump' and then the sharp, 'tap-tap-tap!' of knuckles against a pane of glass.

Souji lets out a yelp of surprise – the single most undignified, ungraceful sound he's ever made in his life – and whirls around to stare at the closed curtain like he thinks it might somehow come alive. Without even having to see, Souji already knows exactly who has just climbed up the side of the house.

He bites his lip, tasting the barest hint of salt and blood. Please just go away...

Sadly, it seems that whatever deities might have once been on his side are now ignoring him, because in that beat and a half of silent fear there comes another knock at his window. “Souji!” calls a voice from outside. Right outside, as if the speaker is perched just beyond the window, with only the glass and the curtain to separate them both.

The voice – the all-too-familiar voice – comes again, a little louder and less patient this time. “Hey! Partner, I know you're in there, I can see your lights on. I just heard you!” There is a muffled grunt and a sound like something shifting and Souji still can't seem to move. Three more knocks against the glass.

“Bro, I am stupid and reckless as hell, you know I'll just keep getting louder until Dojima wakes up if I have to.”

And both from his tone and the way the knocking and the whispers seem to get steadily louder, Souji doesn't doubt him for a moment. To be frank, Souji isn't entirely sure his uncle and cousin haven't heard all the commotion already – and he knows that the longer he continues to avoid the other boy, the more suspicious he's making himself look. Damned if he does, damned if he doesn't.

So he gives in. Best to get it over with and accept his fate. Maybe there will still be a way to salvage the situation – or at the very least keep it from escalating. He isn't confident in either choice.

It's just as Yosuke makes one last whisper-shout of, “Dude, let me in!” that Souji finally unsticks himself from the floor and yanks the curtain aside to reveal – yep, just like he'd thought – a rather irritated-looking Yosuke kneeling unsteadily on the slanted overhang covering the front door. With a solemn kind of dread, Souji unlocks the window and slides it open, reaching out to grab his friend by the arm and yank him inside before he can make any more noise.

“Finally!” Yosuke says, once he's landed, still in a harsh pseudo-whisper as he's standing up from his hunch. He glares up at Souji, mouth turned down in a pout, but oddly, there doesn't seem to be any heat behind it all. In fact, as Souji stares, tense and frozen and trying impossibly hard to not give in to his fight-or-flight instincts, he could almost say that Yosuke looks... nervous?

Well of course, he argues to himself, he's probably afraid of you now.

Maybe Souji can play dumb and claim he doesn't know what's going on – or maybe he can dive out the window himself and make a break for the train station. If he's quick enough he might be able to catch the last train of the night.

“The hell happened to your room?” Yosuke mumbles, looking around, and Souji fakes a smile as best he can, though even through his numbing anxiety he can feel how strained it is. “Yosuke,” he tries, nearly tripping over his best friend's name. The smile twitches as he tries to keep it in place. “What're you do--”

He grinds to a halt as the boy he's been in love with for the better part of a year pins him with another sharp amber glare and reaches into his hoodie pocket to pull out the very thing Souji was hoping his partner would never see. He swallows, mouth and throat and tongue all suddenly very dry.

“...I can explain...”

Yosuke fixes him with an unreadable look. He stares at Souji for a moment that stretches painfully on, eyes searching Souji's no doubt devastated face. Eventually he lets out a long exhale though his nose.

“I'm guessing I wasn't supposed to see these?” he says, holding up the stack of yellow-orange-pink envelopes, loosely tied back together with their red string – though it isn't really a question. When Souji doesn't answer, Yosuke nods to himself as if deciding something. He pulls the letters back towards his chest and holds them... almost reverently, looking down at them with a soft sort of expression that Souji has never seen him wear before.

Yosuke turns the letters over in his hands. “I didn't know what they were at first; there wasn't a name or note or anything, so I didn't know who they were from and I thought maybe they'd wound up in the bag by mistake cuz, ya know...” Amber eyes glance back up and for a moment the bridge of his nose is dusted a faint pink. He rolls his wrist, waving his hand in lieu of words. The gesture is entirely unhelpful. “They just...” he starts again, huffing. “They didn't look like the rest of the stuff in the bag? So I thought, this should be okay to open, right? Just the top one? And I was just gonna check and see what these were in case someone was missing something and I figured if they were a gift then I could save the rest for tomorrow, but, uhm...”

And here Yosuke trails off, looking back up at Souji with such a searching look, and Souji has no idea how to read him right now. He just stands there, chest aching as his heart batters the inside of his sternum and the edges of his vision tint grey from where he's neglected proper breathing. This is it, this is where he loses his partner, the best friend he's ever had. Souji could have been content loving Yosuke from afar; maybe not happy, exactly, but content. It wouldn't have destroyed their friendship that way, and Souji could have let himself pretend, every so often when he was alone in the dead of night, that Yosuke loved him back. But now all of that is gone.

And Souji feels his heart beginning to crack.

“I'm sorry...” he whispers, voice thin and brittle. He doesn't know what else to say.

There is another long moment of silence. Souji is expecting a rebuke, something biting and defensive or disgusted, perhaps, but it never comes. Instead, Yosuke's expression seems to twist into something confused and almost hurt.

Yosuke clears his throat awkwardly.“Sorry for...?” he asks, stretching it out as like he's trying to prompt Souji to elaborate. He doesn't say anything for a bit, just waiting, watching his partner's face as if trying to read him.

“I read all of them, you know,” he says at length. His grip on the letters tightens. “Twice.” He glances back down at the sunset-colored envelopes and brushes a thumb across the edge of the topmost one. “And I thought, if this was a joke then it was a shitty one.” An anxious fingernail picks at the red string. He huffs. “But if it wasn't and you meant it, then...” A swallow. “It was probably the best birthday present I've ever gotten...” He looks up then, and the glimmering, guarded hope hidden in the lines of his face is enough to shove all the remaining air from Souji's lungs.

Because there is no way he could possibly be this lucky.

Taking a deep, deep breath in, Yosuke squares his shoulders, lifts his chin, and steps forwards until he's less than half a foot away from Souji's face, close enough that Souji can feel the other boy's rapid breathing in faint bursts against his own skin – and suddenly his heart is fluttering for an entirely different reason.

Face red, Yosuke stares directly into Souji's eyes and quietly says, “Did you mean it?”

And Souji breathes a quiet, honest, “Yes.”

Yosuke's eyes widen. “...Yes?” he repeats, like he can't quite believe it.

Souji nods. “Every word.”

And then Yosuke's fingers are fisted into the collar of Souji's shirt, pulling him down to crash their mouths together in a messy, awkward kiss. The angle is a little off, their lips not quite meeting they way that they should, and Souji has no idea what he's doing with his hands as he hesitantly brings them up to rest one on Yosuke's arm and the other on his hip.

It's perfect.

They part a few seconds later, Souji's face and neck and ears burning just as hot as Yosuke's look, but neither make any move to step away.

Yosuke's mouth twitches up at one corner in a sheepish smile. “Sorry,” he mumbles, “I wanted to do that before I lost my nerve.”

Souji laughs – not a real one, just a puff of disbelieving breath – and returns the almost-smile as something warm blooms inside his chest. “I love you,” he whispers, and never in his life could he have imagined just how good it feels to finally say it aloud, free of the fear of hatred and rejection.

Yosuke ducks his head as the blush burns further up his ears. The shy, bright grin spreading across his face, however, is beautiful.

“...Love you, too, Partner.”

Beaming, Souji can't help but wrap his arms around his friend and pull him into a hug, burying his face in the soft brown hair at Yosuke's temple. He doesn't cry, but he can feel his shoulders shaking; he doesn't have the focus to tell if it's from relief or something else. “Never thought I'd hear you say that,” he admits quietly, feeling safer with his face hidden from Yosuke's view.

The other boy brings his own arms up to encircle Souji's ribs, giving his back a gentle pat with the hand not still holding the stack of letters. “Yeah, well,” he says, and there is a bewildered chuckle in his voice. “I never thought you were secretly writing me love letters, but here we are.”

Oh!

Souji pulls back from the hug as a thought hits him. He tries not to give in to the little noise of unhappiness Yosuke makes as Souji steps away, having to actively will his feet to take him over to the desk instead of back into his friend's arms. Luckily it's not far, nor does his purpose for being there last more than a moment or two as he snatches up the letter he'd written earlier, now the only one left that Yosuke hasn't yet read. He pivots on the ball of his foot, turning his final step towards the desk into a single fluid motion that carries him back to Yosuke, and holds the creamsicle-orange envelope out for the other boy to take. He smiles, giddy and shy. “Happy birthday, Yosuke.”

Yosuke smiles to match his own, honey-brown eyes warm as he gently takes the letter from Souji's hand and places it on top of the bundle still in his grip, tucking a thumb into the envelope's unsealed flap. “It is, yeah.” He leans in to close the distance between them once again and stretches up until he can touch his lips to Souji's in a chaste, sweet kiss. “Got everything I wanted.”

(Souji brings Kanji a homemade lunch every day for a month.)

#fanfic #persona 4 #souyoweek2020 #fanfiction #souyo #souji seta #yu narukami #yosuke hanamura #Kanji Tatsumi

[carewyncromwell]

Hey guys! Normally I just jump right into my gameplay posts and then put in additional notes at the end, but for this particular set of gameplay posts I plan to do, I think I’ll need to do the notes first.

This upcoming series will be based on the Quidditch sidequest “Quest for the Quidditch Cup.” (And will be tagged thusly!) Normally the game HPHM sets this in our first year playing Quidditch, circa year 2...but not only am I well past year 2, but I’ve written some lore about Carewyn and her relationship with the Slytherin Quidditch team that goes against this particular side quest’s plot line. Here are bullet points!

Carewyn was introduced to Quidditch Friendlies in third year through Penny, and also received training from Skye. She even played as a substitute Chaser in Slytherin’s match against Hufflepuff in her third year.

After Skye made up rumors about Erika Rath, however, Carewyn and Skye had a pretty substantive falling-out, given Carewyn’s over-sensitivity to bullying. Not wanting to cause further drama for Orion’s team but not wanting to stand by Skye’s behavior, Carewyn quietly withdrew from the Slytherin Quidditch team, allowing the original Chaser to take back their spot for the last two matches of the season.

Carewyn has continued to play in Quidditch friendlies as a Chaser (often against or alongside Ravenclaw Keeper Andre and Gryffindor Seeker Charlie), but has not tried to take back a spot on the Slytherin Quidditch team again.

Orion -- who Carewyn is incredibly fond of, partially because of how much he reminds her of her brother Jacob -- has every-so-often tried to bring Carewyn back into the fold, but Carewyn has been reluctant to commit, partly because of her hyper-focus on the Vaults and partly because of her strained relationship with Skye.

Age-wise, I have written Murphy, Skye, and Orion as all being a year older than Carewyn (hence why we don’t see them in any of her classes). These gameplays will take place toward the end of year 6 well after that certain Redacted event, even though I haven’t reached that point in the game yet, because Carewyn is currently in year 6, but the last game of the Quidditch season would have to take place in the spring. This is also why Orion isn’t two years ahead of Carewyn -- if he were, he’d be graduated already! I do see him being born toward the end of the year, though, so he would still be the eldest of the three Quidditch characters. XD; Because of the timing, Carewyn will have just completed her character arc where she’s learned to open up a bit more to her friends at this point too and is no longer shutting her friends out of what’s going on with R or the Cursed Vaults. I also fortunately don’t have much interest in writing any further Quidditch plotlines with Carewyn, so I won’t have to worry about writing any contradictory season 2 gameplays. (If nothing else, Carewyn would be a GOD-AWFUL Beater.)

With all this out of the way...let the games begin!

~x~x~x~x~

[Carewyn had had to deal with a lot of unexpected things that year, but one thing she certainly had not been expecting was receiving an owl from Orion Amari. The Slytherin Quidditch Captain would reach out to her sometimes when she was playing in Quidditch friendlies or otherwise visiting the Quidditch Pitch, but they almost never collided in the hallways of Hogwarts themselves, partly because Orion was a year older than her, but also because Orion just seemed to operate on his own schedule. Carewyn sometimes wondered if he Broom-Surfed through life, rather than walking like ordinary people did.

Regardless, when Carewyn arrived in the Great Hall to meet Orion, she found him already there, sitting at the end of the Slytherin table with Quidditch commentator Murphy McNully.]

Murphy: “Been a long time! I haven’t seen you since the final Quidditch friendly last year -- reckon your team would’ve had only a 0.5% chance of victory, if you hadn’t been able to hit the Quaffle past the Keeper with your broom just before the opposing Seeker caught the Snitch...1% at the most...”

“(politely) It’s good to see you too, McNully.”

[Carewyn turned to Orion, looking a bit more serious.]

“I heard about Skye’s injury. What happened? I heard some people say Rath hit Skye with a Bludger...but I just can’t see Rath doing something like that on purpose: she could get banned from Quidditch for actively trying to target an opposing team’s player like that.”

[Orion nodded solemnly, his gaze very pensive.]

Orion: “Your thought process has some merit, Carewyn...but I’m afraid we really can’t know for sure. We have only two witnesses to the event -- Rath and Skye -- with two versions of the truth. One says it was an accident, the other purposeful.”

“(frowns) But those two things contradict each other. They can’t both be the truth.”

Orion: “They are both their truths. In any case, the result is the same, and our Chaser was injured.”

[Carewyn couldn’t entirely agree with this -- she would feel a lot better knowing it was an accident rather than Rath getting away scot-free with hurting one of Slytherin’s players...but really, such a sentiment was pretty typical for Orion, and there was a lot more to discuss.

Her gaze drifted down to the table in front of her absently as she leaned her arms against the wood.]

“...Is Skye all right?”

Orion: “Physically, yes -- Madame Pomfrey says she’ll make a full recovery. Emotionally, however, I would not say so, given that Madame Pomfrey also has said she will not be well enough to play in the match.”

[Carewyn’s heart clenched.]

“So she’ll miss the Quidditch final. Your last Quidditch final, ever.”

Murphy: “(grimly) The math would seem to suggest it. At present I’d say there’s only a 23% chance Skye would be able to play, and about 19.9% of that factors in Skye actively ignoring Madame Pomfey’s instructions. And if she did that, I’d say Slytherin would only have a 3% chance of victory.”

[Carewyn felt a wave of empathy wash over her. She may have had her differences with Skye, and she didn’t regret distancing herself from her...but at the same time, she knew how much Quidditch and especially the Quidditch Cup meant to her. Slytherin had been knocked out of the running for the Quidditch Final several times the last few years, largely by Gryffindor, since their team had Quidditch prodigy Charlie as their Seeker. But this year, Charlie had not had his head in the game (for rather obvious reasons), and so Slytherin had finally gotten the opening they needed. But facing Ravenclaw in the Quidditch Final would be no easy task...and, Carewyn thought, Skye had to be absolutely miserable, being stuck on the sidelines at the exact moment when Slytherin finally had a chance to earn the Cup they’d fought so hard for.

Murphy glanced at Orion out the side of his eye critically.]

[Orion gave a single, slow nod.]

[He turned to Carewyn with a wry smile.]

Orion: “...And she is sitting with us at this moment.”

[Carewyn blinked in surprise. Murphy brightened up instantly, looking at Carewyn with a large smile.]

Murphy: “Yes! That’d be brilliant! With your high record of goal scoring and your overall speed, Carewyn, you’d easily improve Slytherin’s odds by a good 31.6%!”

[Despite Murphy’s enthusiasm, Carewyn couldn’t make herself smile back.]

“I don’t know...”

Orion: “(seriously) Carewyn...you have dismissed me several times in the past, but I urge you to hear me out fully before you make your decision. You first left our team because of a personal dispute with Skye, and although I lament it, I also respect that you wanted our team to succeed, and you thought that withdrawing with grace would be the best way to do that. Now, however, we are in dire straits. We need someone who can fill Skye’s role on our team. You trained with Skye. You have consistently played well in every Quidditch friendly you have participated in. And you also more than embody the integrity needed both to lead and to follow -- to place the good of your team over glory for yourself. It’s the reason I asked you to choose our strategy in the match against Hufflepuff three years ago...and it’s the reason both Skye and I believe you should be our third Chaser, in this match against Ravenclaw.”

[This took Carewyn completely aback.]

“Skye said I should?”

[Orion smiled, his dark eyes twinkling with an oddly soft glint.]

Orion: “She urged me to try to convince you. Believe it or not...Skye has lamented the loss of you on our team even more than I have.”

[Carewyn’s narrowed blue eyes drifted off vaguely in the direction of the far wall as she took this in.]

If she felt that way, she should’ve made things right with Rath, then.

[Despite the stubborn irritation lashing at her insides, though, she couldn’t help but feel slightly touched, all the same. To think that Skye would’ve insisted Carewyn fill her spot -- Carewyn knew full well how much Quidditch meant to Skye...so her trusting Carewyn with her spot on the team, right before such an important match...]

I know how hard it is to trust others. It hasn’t been easy for me...even now...it’s not easy, for me. If Skye trusts me that much...if Orion and McNully trust me that much...

[Meeting the Circle of Khanna in the Three Broomsticks and feeling their expectant eyes all on her rippled over Carewyn’s mind. It brought the feeling of responsibility back down onto her shoulders -- that heavy weight that nonetheless made her want to stand even taller, so as to meet that burden.]

I can’t turn my back on them, when they need me.

[There was a new strength in her posture and shoulders as her gaze rose to meet Orion’s.]

“...All right. I’m in.”

[Orion’s dark eyes lit up like stars. His face broke into a large, bright smile and he reached across the table to take hold of Carewyn’s arm, squeezing it affectionately.]

Orion: “It will be a privilege to fly alongside you in my final match at Hogwarts, Carewyn.”

[Carewyn smiled in return, her blue eyes softening visibly. Murphy looked delighted as well.]

Murphy: “Not to mention how exciting it’ll be for my final match as a commentator! Carewyn Cromwell, swooping in just in time to nab Slytherin the Quidditch Cup for the first time in ten years!”

[His expression then turned a lot more business-like.]

Murphy: “We won’t get that great story, though, unless Slytherin wins.”

[Carewyn frowned deeply and nodded. She was well aware -- Gryffindor had opposed Ravenclaw in the Quidditch Cup Final just about every year she was at Hogwarts, and it was largely thanks to Rath smacking Bludgers at Charlie so hard that he was sent to the Hospital Wing that Ravenclaw had won.]

“Rath is not someone to be underestimated. But we have two days before the match -- I’m sure we can come up with a plan by then. In the meantime, I’ll set aside some extra time to practice with the rest of the team.”

[She glanced at Orion for approval. The Slytherin Quidditch Captain inclined his head in a single nod.]

Orion: “This is a time for celebration and hard work. Let us concentrate on coming together as a team and on supporting Skye.”

[Carewyn’s eyes drifted off, landing on the doorway out of the entrance hall.]

“...Maybe I should go see Skye, then...just for a talk.”

Ha! That’s a loaded question...

[She frankly didn’t want to even think about how uncomfortable the reunion between her and Skye would be like, given how they’d ended things and how little they’d subsequently spoken over the years...

Despite those feelings, Carewyn -- true to form -- put on her prettiest, most confident smile.]

#hphm #hogwarts mystery #gameplay #quest for the quidditch cup #skye parkin #orion amari #murphy mcnully #carewyn cromwell #charlie weasley #erika rath #roleplaying

[blue-mood-blue]

Oooooh, @ruffboijuliaburnsides, an interesting thought. So interesting that I wrote entirely too many words.

~~~

It begins with a mistake.

The new world, their chosen world, feels so much like home - for the first time in years, they feel safe. They let their guards down. Barry and Taako go out scouting, and Barry drags a bloodied, barely-alive Taako back into the Starblaster hours later.

Lup is the only one who recognizes the magic. I had to, Barry explains. I thought he was going to die. We can’t… we can’t stay here without Taako.

She agrees: the possibility is unthinkable.

When Lup can’t take it anymore, when she can’t let another person die because of her creation, Taako goes with her. He’s a lich, now; she’s not leading him into danger the way she would’ve been otherwise, she thinks, and she wants her brother with her. Of course I’m going with you, Taako says when she asks. You wouldn’t really leave me behind, would you?

She doesn’t see Cyrus reach out for her. She doesn’t see Taako get in the way. She does see Taako fall, and traps Cyrus in his own vault while her brother dies across the room. When she runs close, trying to wake him because this isn’t how it’s supposed to happen, he isn’t supposed to be a lich for the rest of their lives, what kind of life would that be - her staff opens without her permission, and in a rush of sparks her brother is gone.

Lup doesn’t know what to do. She didn’t think of this possibility, doesn’t know how to get him out, and she stumbles from the cave and home towards help; Barry will help her find answers. She doesn’t make it that far before her mind dissolves into static.

~~~

Lup doesn’t know how she managed the patience to stay with the caravans for so long; the travel is nice, and the not being alone is better, but she can’t shake the sense that she should be doing more. The restless energy makes her pace at the edges of camp in the evenings and ride too hard and too fast in the daylight. When she finds the first adventuring group to attach herself to, it’s almost a relief to match their punishing speed.

(It’s still not quite right, and she taps the tip of her umbrella against the ash around the campfire restlessly. There’s somewhere else. Something else. But when she’s thanked by the people she’s helped, something anxious in her chest settles just a little.)

Barry is a nice change of pace, for the few days she knows him. They’re thrown together by chance, guarding the same wagon, and Lup recognizes a familiar restlessness in him almost as soon as they strike up a conversation. He’s calmer than she is, and it makes them a good fit. For the first time in a long time, Lup considers the possibility that, eventually, she might want something else for herself. She thinks she could like spending more time with him. She could be happy.

And so of course, their time is cut short.

Magnus Burnsides almost takes her out with an axe the first time he meets her. “Sorry,” he says, with a grin on his face that’s miles away from sorry. “I thought you were a gerblin!”

Lup blinks at him. “Do you need your eyes checked, or just another blow to the head?” The horses are dead, she notes, and so are a couple of actual gerblins. No one she was traveling with is in sight, so she has to entertain the possibility that they’ve all been killed. She must have been knocked out, and she’s angry with herself for the moment of weakness.

“That won’t do any good,” Merle says knowingly. “Nothing up there but loose change and rustic hospitality.”

“And vehicle proficiency!” Magnus proudly proclaims before it occurs to him to be offended. “...wait.”

Despite a very bad day, Lup finds it in her to laugh.

~~~

Barry sees her expression from across the glass - a hurt that goes so deep, that she doesn’t even understand. He wonders if she knows where her brother is. He doesn’t think so; if she knew what she was missing, she wouldn’t smile so easily.

Not for the first time, or the last, Barry thinks of the desperate moment Taako became a lich. It wasn’t like it was with him and Lup. It wasn’t planned - the spell was cobbled together with barely an anchor. If he was pushed, could Taako have stayed stable? Or was he already irretrievably gone?

Even while it hurts to find her alone, Barry is relieved to see her. At least she’s still okay, he thinks, and he knows Taako would feel the same if he was there.

Barry turns away from the last of his family.

~~~

They’re a team. It’s not something Lup expected to have. There was no cooperation beyond survival in the caravans, no loyalty in her family, no stability among the adventuring groups. She doesn’t know what to make of the arrangement - whether she should hold it close or at arms length.

But she can’t help the bonds that start to form.

She has fun with Magnus and Merle. Somehow they’re always on the same wavelength - they understand each other’s weird jokes and personality quirks. They fit together, if that makes any sense - and it doesn’t, they’re wildly different people, but that doesn’t seem to matter. The only other time Lup has had such an easy time getting to know someone was Barry, and she hopes this friendship isn’t headed in the same direction. It would be nice, if her luck could hold just this once.

Lup wouldn’t give up working for the BoB for anything, though. This job, finally, feels right. Besides Madam Director, Lup is the one most adamant that the relics need to be found as soon as possible.

“It just makes sense,” she says when the Director rewards her eagerness with a strange look. “You don’t even have to sell me on the pitch. ‘Destroying incredibly dangerous weapons that no one should have?’ Yeah, of course I’m on board.”

Lup doesn’t know why, but the Director doesn’t seem happy with her answer.

~~~

Leon asks Lup a few times where she picked up the umbrella. Magnus and Merle seem curious, too - and on one memorable occasion, the red robe following them asked her, sadly, if there was a reason she clung to it. Her answer is always some variation of the same thing: she doesn’t remember when or how, it was probably an old possession of her aunt’s that she’d taken with her for sentimental reasons.

Lup doesn’t know if she believes her own story. It doesn’t feel like that long, somehow, and if she’d carried it around all that time, its quirks shouldn’t still catch her by surprise. The boring truth is, she just doesn’t remember.

The umbrella is a useful piece of work, at least, when it’s not bugging out or having a mind of its own. Sometimes it seems to get its own idea about what Lup needs, like the time it sabotaged the race by switching out two battlewagons’ wheels while they were moving. Sometimes it changes the color of her clothes without warning, or turns her bedspread into a different material. It doesn’t seem malicious as much as stubborn and unpredictable.

There are times, though, when she catches sight of the umbrella from the corner of her eye or sees it by her side, and she can’t shake a feeling of dread. Something’s wrong, her mind supplies, with no apparent excuse for the thought. This umbrella did something horrible and I witnessed it. I have to do something. I have to DO something.

Ridiculous, really. It’s an umbrella. What could it have done?

~~~

The reaper seems to think she’s a lich, and it’s more than Lup can reasonably be expected to deal with in a day when the day includes a mutating lab and a rogue BoB agent trying (and succeeding) at raising the dead. A lich, really? When the fuck, pray tell, has she had time to become a lich? It seems like something she’d remember, the way all three of them would remember the repeated deaths he also tries to pin on them.

“You sure you didn’t just lose track of your actual bounty and think, hey, those three are conveniently the same number of death criminals I’m supposed to bring in today, I’ll just grab them instead.”

Kravitz, who is several steps beyond losing his patience, summons an enormous book. “I have your names! They’re written right here! I should be asking you where -” static “- is, but I wouldn’t expect you to turn in your own -” static, and Lup frowns for a moment before shaking off the concern.

“Sounds like a you problem, my dude.”

The encounter ends on an uneasy truce - Kravitz would pretend he hadn’t seen any of them if they would just stop dying and stop committing death crimes. It was the very least they could do, he told them, to make his life easier. Please. And for a few months, they keep their promise easily.

Lup expects him, when they get back from Refuge. He’s sitting on the couch and Lup sighs, sitting next to him with her umbrella perched on the armrest. “Maybe I am a lich,” she says, and Kravitz raises an eyebrow. “I thought I knew everything about me, but now…” But now, maybe someone is still keeping secrets. Lup doesn’t know what the gaps in her memory mean. She doesn’t know why the chalice couldn’t see everything when it dug around in her head for her regrets - and maybe it was right, maybe it wouldn’t have been too late for Barry if she’d moved a little faster… but then she’d seen what was going to happen almost like she could predict it, and it seemed so inevitable and she was so, suddenly tired… - but she worries. She doesn’t like being made into a liar.

“I didn’t come to take you in. I wanted an explanation for the death count.”

Lup nods. “Yeah, I can give you that. But can we make a deal, first? If it turns out you can’t forgive whatever I am, if you have to take me in… can you give me enough time to clean up this mess, at least? I need time to fix this.” She has to see it happen herself, and she doesn’t know why. Personal satisfaction? Maybe.

Kravitz nods. “I can agree to that.”

~~~

Lup watches the liches carve pieces of her friends away, and she wants to scream. She isn’t that. She isn’t them. She doesn’t know what reason she would ever have for making herself like them, even as she wishes she had a fraction of their power so she could spare her friends. She hates the choice they’re forcing Magnus to make.

“Let me take the penalty,” Lup says while Magnus stares blankly at the wheel and considers his potential loss. “Come on, Mags - what can they take from me that’s as bad as that? That’s Julia, that’s a part of her. You need to keep her.”

It’s his revenge, really, but still. It’s a piece of his wife, of her history, that he would never have back. Magnus doesn’t even nod before Lup reaches for the wheel again, watches it spin and spin…

And land on something new.

“Ah,” Lydia says, “I hope you’re not terribly attached to your possessions.”

“I can’t imagine she is,” Edward adds, “You heard that noble sentiment. Why, this might even be too easy.”

They want the umbrella. Something in Lup’s heart tears in two. She doesn’t want to let go.

But that’s stupid, isn’t it? What’s the worth of an object when it’s placed against the memory of family?

She stands, frozen, for several long moments. And then she gives it to them.

The umbrastaff is not complacent in Lydia’s grasp; it moves and twitches around like a thing possessed, and Lup steps closer to Magnus before she’s tempted to grab it back. Lydia twirls it, grinning and giggling, and the game continues.

It’s not until the catwalk that Lup realizes she wasn’t very far off the mark, thinking that the staff has a mind of its own. It’s certainly not Lydia who raises the umbrella and points it at Edward while his back is turned; Lup can see her arm shake as she struggles to lower it, but the umbrella is perfectly still. Lup almost recognizes the expression on Lydia’s face.

Then there’s a flash of light and… feathers. Black feathers, slowly falling back to the ground, and no more Edward. Lydia screams.

~~~

Lydia’s rage burns herself and everything around her; there’s no more lich, no more Wonderland, no more feathers.

No more umbrastaff.

He doesn’t have much time, but his last-minute plans have always been some of his best - improvisation has saved his ass countless times already. Sparking life a firework and barely in one piece, he reaches for the tiny tear in reality that is rapidly closing. He tugs, forcing the gap down and down, and peeks through - there, in the waves, is a man struggling to stay afloat.

“How about another deal, my dude? Don’t reap me the minute I touch you, keep me stable for about, oh, few hours until all of this shit is dealt with, and I’ll get you out of there.”

Kravitz grabs for his hand, and he grins. Close enough to a handshake for him.

When it’s just the two of them sitting in the Felicity Wilds, holding hands to keep the sparking lich in check, Kravitz gives him a searching look. “Do the two of you make deals with death often? Because it seems to come startlingly naturally to you both.”

“Only when we have to.” Taako grins. “What’s your name, thug?”

~~~

How could she forget about Taako?

The thought rocks through her, and everything shifts. They’d always been together - passed around by family, in the caravans, in school, on the Starblaster - and to the end, they’d gone down fighting together. Even after everything changed, she’d never let go; she could reach for the handle of the staff as easily has she’d reached for his hand in younger years.

And now that she knows enough to know she was never alone, Lup is alone again.

There is no countdown. There are no accusations. What there is instead, is silence. Lucretia explains, and reasons, and Lup doesn’t answer.

There’s nothing to say.

~~~

She finds him hand-in-hand with death, sparking like a malfunctioning piece of machinery and grinning widely. They’re on the glass of Phandolin - what used to be Phandolin, and what used to be glass, she notes, because it’s all a clear, blue gemstone now.

Lup runs to Taako, and this time she isn’t too late. Taako lets go of Kravitz and leans on her instead, and even if she can’t really feel him, she would swear the solid weight of him is in her arms. “Missed you,” she whispers.

“Didn’t go anywhere, you dummy.”

Lup laughs, and looks up at the sky. “I have to fix this. I have to finish what we started.”

Taako squeezes her one more time, and lets go. “I’ll be here when you get back.”

#taz #the adventure zone #thank you for the prompt #i’m sure you can tell how much i liked it #by the IRRESPONSIBLE amounr of words

[takemedancingmaine]

Where I Belong

The weather had finally shifted to spring.

Although, if we’re honest, there’s not a real spring in Chicago. Only winter and then false hope then more winter and then, somehow overnight, summer. 

It was sticky and the air was heavy. You could feel it on your skin the moment you stepped outside. Paired with some of the bluest skies and the clear water of Lake Michigan, one could understand the allure of Chicago, finally making sense of why people brave the winters and the grey skies. Every year around this time, I fell in love with the city all over again, fell in love with the vibe of spring baseball games and a beer on my front porch with a good book in my lap. I fell in love with beach days and rooftop day parties and going to the zoo for a walk around just because. 

The trees along Lakeshore were green and full when I ran past them in the mornings, the birds were singing loud over the traffic, and kids were playing with chalk on the sidewalk in front of their houses.

It wasn't like I needed a reminder of all the reasons I loved Chicago, because I just did, but the month of May brought the reminders out for me anyway. I was enamored by the juxtaposition of the busy city behind me and the vast, empty expanse of blue water in front, kicking at the wall under my heels as I dangled my legs over the edge.

I was sitting on a concrete barrier on the edge of the Lake that separated two beaches in Bryn Mawr and writing in my journal. 

It was something I was doing more and more since starting therapy all those months ago. I was not a writer by any means, nor was I eloquent, but I never felt pressure to write well or to even make sense of my thoughts as they left my mind and etched themselves into words on the pages. I simply felt a pull to get the thoughts down so that they weren't festering inside of me. It was a relief I felt that was similar to running. It was a solitary activity where I was alone with myself and able to attempt to understand myself better.

Three and a half months since my secret came to light, since I faced it out in the open and gave it a name and came to terms with the fact that I had to accept it and push forward in a healthy way. Last week, Brian had ‘graduated’ us all from his self-defense class and was gearing up to start anew with another fresh batch of students.

He was excited to start all over again in the fall, and I was excited to have not only completed his class but to have gained more than just knowledge but two friendships as a result of pushing myself through it. Tala and Brian were instrumental in my healing process, and I couldn't be happier with them being a part of my life. They also folded in seamlessly with the rest of the group. Between Tala’s wit and Brian’s charisma, they were always a welcome addition whenever they could join us in our activities.  

There was just one thing about those activities that I had yet to rectify.

I also knew it had to be me, that I had to make the move to solve it. It took me a while to come to terms with this, longer than it had taken me to come to terms with everything else. It was countless hours talking to Louis and Cleo. I even spent a lot of time with Liam and asked his opinions. His advice had been incredibly simple: do what you feel like you’re ready to do, and even if you don’t feel ready, take that step anyway: test yourself.

Ordinarily, I would’ve scoffed at his idea, but Tala said something similar when I went to her with the issue as well. She was the one who, despite what her brother had told her, approved of my severing ties with Niall in the first place. She was the one who said it was better for me. Recently though, she was starting to push me more and more. The conversation we’d had last weekend had centered around the fact that I would probably never feel ready to make this move, but going off of everything else I’d done and all the progress I’d made, I was ready.

I still wasn’t sure, but that was the thing. Emotions are like water. They're impossible to compress. So once the thought was there, I couldn't push it back down. I had to follow through.

I think it was like Tala had said, that I might never be sure. I thought about how rarely sure we are in life and it made me realize just how much we as humans gamble and hope for the best, blowing on the dice for luck before we throw them down. So what if I still wasn't sure? I couldn't remember a time when I was sure. Life was about putting all the pieces together and hoping they made a puzzle, but if not it was okay, there was always a new path, a new puzzle to piece together waiting around each bend.

My journal entry was reflecting this sentiment as I scribbled in it in all caps. I noticed that when I wrote now, my penmanship was all capitals, blockish and somehow a little bit flowy. It was how I’d written notes and essays when I was in high school but had steered away from when I was trying to take notes at a much quicker pace in college. I had told Dr. Winters a few weeks ago that maybe it was because it was more deliberate, slower and more methodical to write in all capital letters. I wasn’t sure yet why or if it meant anything specific–it could always be as simple as I like the aesthetic more–but it was something to think about anyway.

“Hey,” a voice called me from my reverie. I’d been absorbed in writing, absorbed in listening to the sound of the water below me, entranced by the sunshine beating down on me. I slipped a page marker into the journal and closed it, setting it and the pen beside me before looking up. 

It was the hat on his head that made me smile. 

“Hi,” I said, patting the ground beside me, signaling for him to sit.

He did. He maneuvered himself down and leaned back on his hands, his head falling back as he looked up at the sky, his eyes closed.

I took that moment to look him over. He was tan, his skin practically glowing in the sunshine, and his facial hair was fuller. It suited him. I couldn’t tell what his hair was doing, but as he took a deep breath and lowered his head back down and opened his eyes, I noted that the easiness he’d always carried about him was still present. I’d worried that I might’ve stripped that from him, but from the looks of it, I hadn’t.

He turned his head toward me and I was struck by the blue of his eyes. Even with the blue water below me, the blue sky above me, and the blue hat situated on top of his head, his eyes were still the most vibrant, the most riveting of all the options. There was a depth to them that even the most renowned artists would struggle to capture. I could see them clearly even in the shade of his ball cap.

For months I’d thought that perhaps seeing those eyes again would cripple me, tear me down brick-by-brick until I was an amorphous blob on the ground, unable to function back at square one. Yet here I was, staring into those eyes and holding my own, maintaining myself. I had thought that I’d see something in those eyes that might indicate pain or regret. Instead, I saw curiosity and respect. I’d spent a few months dealing with both of those qualities in other people’s gazes to know what they were, and seeing them there, on him, felt natural. As if this was how it was supposed to be.

“You look tan,” I said. 

He nodded and looked out ahead of us toward the horizon. “Yeah, I um. I went on that trip to South Africa a few weeks ago with Greg. It was a place our dad had always wanted to go, so we figured we’d get down there and see what he’d been going on and on about for so long.” 

“How was it?”

“It was unbelievable,” he said. When he said that, I saw that smile, his smile, slip onto his face and watched as his features lit up. I could feel my own features shift into a smile as a response to his, the reaction involuntary, but I was unable to do anything but react to his contagious good vibe. “We did a great white shark thing, watched them breach from a boat and even went down in a tank to watch them from below. It was the scariest, coolest thing I’ve ever done by far. I don't know if I'll ever be able to top it, but I would like to try.” 

He was happy. 

I was struck by that when he looked at me full on again. He was happy and so was I.

We fell into silence. It was neither comfortable nor uncomfortable. There was so much to be said between us so much that needed to be discussed and sorted through, but somehow we both understood that we were under no pressure and that added a level of comfort to the situation.

He spoke first.

“You look lighter… somehow. Calmer,” he said, glancing at me, appraising, and then shifted his gaze back out to the lake.

“I feel lighter,” I said after a moment. Watching him, and then following his gaze to the horizon. He didn't interrupt me when I paused to gather my thoughts, and I appreciated his patience, and appreciated that even after all these months he still believed I deserved the time to get it right. “Therapy has helped quite a bit. As has telling everyone.”

“Louis mentioned to me that you told everyone, including your family,” he said. I watched him from the corner of my eye. “I was really proud of you for that. It must've taken a lot of strength.”

I let out a breathless chuckle. “The family’s response was something, to be sure. And it's funny, but I knew how our friends would react. I just didn't let myself believe that they would be so supportive, that it wouldn't make them look at me in pity. I knew that they wouldn't, but taking that leap of faith is still scary sometimes.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, the timber of his voice rattling my bones. “They're some pretty remarkable people, our friends.”

“If we're calling lunacy ‘remarkable’ nowadays, then sure.” He laughed out loud at my words and I felt it in my toes, his spirit floating lightly. His energy lifted me through this process. If it was anytime else, I couldn't have been able to do this, to tell them.

“I don't expect you to forgive me,” I said, my voice quiet suddenly. “I know I didn't exactly go about, well, anything the right way at first. But I'm trying now and I wanted you to know that I'm sorry.”

“You don't have to apol-”

“I do,” I interrupted him. He cut his gaze to me quickly, the confusion clear within it. “I do,” I repeated with a nod. “I hurt you. I know I hurt you. Regardless of why or the outcome, I still did that. And for that, I'm sorry.”

“I accept,” he said back quietly, his eyes still watching me.

I stayed silent for a long while, looking out over the water, but I knew he was watching me, and could feel his eyes on me. It must've been a handful of minutes later before I spoke again.

“I don't have my nightmare anymore.” As much as I wanted to keep looking at the water I desperately wanted to see his face when he processed that news. So, I turned and watched.

“You what?” His mouth was wide, his eyes searching my face and moving at a quick pace, his voice was nothing but a whisper of words on an exhale of breath leaving him in a gust.

“Since early March,” I said, nodding. “Two and a half months ago.”

“That's great, Ruby,” he said softly and looked away again. I watched as he took his Cubs hat off and ran a hand through his hair before settling his hat back down. His hair was wavy and long on top, but shorter onthe sides. It was my favorite style on him.

“It's been a relief,” I admitted. He nodded at my words.

“I'm sure Moggy appreciates not being woken up in the middle of the night, too,” he said, a smile pulling on his features, knowing that the worst was behind us.

“Oh she's never been happier,” I smiled back. “I was putting a real damper on her beauty rest.” We giggled quietly and then fell into another bout of comfortable silence, the minutes just passing by as we took in being beside each other again. A couple of kids passed by on skateboards behind us and a man blaring reggae music from a speaker walked by at a leisurely pace, the sound fading as he made it to the beach to our left.

“I was thinking,” I started after it had been silent for a while, “that it's probably time our friends stopped making two sets of plans.”

“Yeah?” He asked, pulling his gaze down to me and quirking his eyebrows.

“This wasn't nearly as hard as I built it up in my head to be,” I said, letting him know I'd been nervous about seeing him. 

He let out a slow breath and nodded, another smile pulling on his lips. “Yeah, it really hasn't been.” I let him think for a moment, able to see the thoughts whirring behind his eyes. “I think that's fair.”

“You think we can pull it off, being friends?”

“Well,” he drew in a breath and let it out slowly, “we've done being a couple, and we’ve done being nothing to each other, so I think that maybe friends can be a happy medium for us.”

I hoped so.

Sitting there I realized that although I had patched myself up and that I was happy, content with my life and who I was, I had still missed Niall.

I'd missed his contagious laugh and his easygoing energy. I'd missed his quirky bookish quotes that would come out when he was trying to be introspective and I'd missed watching him interact with Louis and the rest of our friends. 

I realized just how easily I could be his friend. I thought about how he would fit in with Tala and Brian and how he'd compliment each of them as well. I thought about our group game nights having good music again because my choices wouldn't be voted down and the Guinness that would be stocked in all of our fridges for just-in-case purposes.

If anything were to happen between us in the future–and I recognized that hypothetical as a long shot because of the trust that would have to be built back up–that was for the future. For right now, I was happy just having him around again.

It was enough for me. It was calm and I felt that ease settling into my belly as I thought about that. I wasn't wary of what was to come or nervous of screwing anything up. It was an easy friendship and there were expectations that went along with being a friend, but they didn't feel impossible to meet or to breathe under.

“Hey,” he said, pulling me again from my reverie with that single word.

I looked over at him.

“This feels good.”

“It does,” I acknowledged. “Thanks for meeting me.”

“Thanks for reaching out,” he said.

I took a deep breath and looking out at the lake in front of me, seeing it for what was far from the first time, I felt myself sink into happiness, all of my nervous energy from before leaving me like the waves pulling away from the barrier and all that was coming in was a warmth and a relief that spread through me. 

Looking right, I could see the green grass and trees and the golden beach past them, could see skyscrapers reaching up into the blue beyond above and could see the sun as it travelled its path, steady and constant and not concerning itself with anything but its own power and strength.

The sun knew that it would be cloudy some days, but that never dimmed its shine, it was bright regardless of what was happening around it. I took a deep breath and closing my eyes against the light hoped that I could be like that too, bright and unwavering and strong in the face of life. I finally felt like I was in a place where that wasn't an unreasonable hope.

#so there we have it #Ruby's story is at an end #(technically there's still an epilogue to come but this is the end) #it feels surreal #Ruby is my friend my confidant and my inspiration #i hope her story means something to someone else too #so here's to my girl Ruby #fic: only ticket home #fic: OTH #OTH24 #1dff #niall horan fanfic

[nomadmilk]

Why the God Isn’t Bored on Midgard - Loki x F!Reader Drabble

Summary: ... It was all because he saw you.

Word Count: 2K (yIkEs)

Warnings: None? Partying? Jerk ex-boyfriend?

Author’s Note: I don’t know why this sounds like an essay... Maybe because I’ve written a lot in the past 3 years so it’s kind of pouring out onto my creative writing too?... This is also post-Ragnarok with IW & Endgame non-existent... Let me know if I should continue this, cause’,  I mean, the end of this sounds like it’s going to be in chapters... I’m just stuck between Loki smut chapters or one-shots *Shrugs*... Hope you like, anyway ^^. Also, as of 02.06.2019, it’s been edited slightly, cause some parts bugged me ToT

Here’s the links to the next parts: Part 1     Part 2 Part 3     Part 4 Part 5     Part 6 Part 7     Part 8 (First Half)     Part 8.5 (Second Half)  Part 9

Thor had been busy trying to find homes for his people, alongside Brunnhilde and Bruce, and, whilst Loki did his part as Prince of Asgard to help as much as he could, Thor knew the nature of his brother. Since his reappearance on Earth, Nick Fury and Stephen Strange had made regular visits to him since his arrival.

Obviously, they didn’t trust him due to past events, despite Thor’s protest of his good behaviour and little evidence of this. On the other hand, Loki was pretty sure he was on good terms with himself now.

He realised that humans forget as fast as they lived, compared to Asgard and Asgardians. He was able to sit in libraries and cafes without getting any harassment for what he did in New York. After a few days or so, he was quickly able to find a café he could attend. After a few more times of visiting them, the employees had begun remembering his order.

He sat down on his usual spot; an area where the café was able to open its walls and extend itself with a roof hood to provide shade for the customers. He positioned his seat halfway underneath the extended roof of the place, and halfway inside the shop, where he could enjoy the outdoor Summer weather without being amongst the crowd that it brought about. His feet would cross, legs spread, and his book rested in one of his hands. His coffee would be brought over, and he’d dip his head in gratitude before taking a sip of his drink.

Although on one day, he got distracted by a woman; her tears were flowing over her cheeks, but she was listening intently to the person opposite her… Her brother? Her boyfriend?

After surveying for a while, Loki guessed that it definitely was her boyfriend; she had tried to hold his hand, but he had swiftly avoided her touch by leaning back into his chair.

Despite the short distraction, he thought nothing of it at the time. It just confirmed a quality all humans seemed to have; attachment to sentimentality.

As he left, and a waiter awkwardly brought over one crying girl two hot drinks, Loki could finally tear his eyes away from the situation and back into his book, although, he had lost where he was on the page.

Being on Earth, without bringing hostility from anyone, became a bit dull, and Loki wasn’t sure of what to do with the spare time he had besides reading a good book, and having a hot beverage. When Thor made it mandatory to attend one of the Avengers outings, Loki absolutely protested. He almost got away from the occasion, but Brunnhilde had punched his copycat illusion of himself so hard that his real self could feel it in the library he was in.

So, Loki went socialising, to a club with the people he once fought quite violently with. Before anything, he was warned by a lot of people to not get into any trouble, and so, with a gritted smile, he followed his brother to a large building with booming thuds of music and lights blinking in and out of the windows. They were escorted through by bodyguards managing through a sea of people, some of which recognised the famous faces. As the Avengers gave waves, and Tony Stark couldn’t help but take pictures with some of them, it made the trip through the club slower, and annoying, and the more agonising for Loki. He couldn’t hear anything or anyone, and just wanted to focus on walking with the others to go where they were meant to go.

And then he saw you, again.

You had not noticed the Avengers, not bothered to take a picture with any of them. None of it seemed to make you pay attention as you were clearly distracted by the beat of the club song. He was surprised he recognised you; the last time he saw you, your hair was tied in a low bun, you were wearing a woolly jumper, and your face was blotched in red with all the sobbing you had done. But tonight, you had completely transformed; a dress that fitted you, your hair was styled, and your face no longer blotched from the tears.

There was a man, not the boyfriend, dancing really close behind you, and you welcomed it by clasping his arms around your waist.

The notion kept his eyes on you; your lips were covered with a matte red lip, and they spread to a smile. He saw your head lean back and rest on the man’s shoulder, closing your eyes in full bliss.

Loki couldn’t tear his eyes off you this time. This was different. He couldn’t remember exactly when he last saw you, but it wasn’t too long ago. Your break-up seemed terrible for you, and now you’re out here, grinding against a man you don’t know, as if there was nothing bothering you at all. The way you were swaying and in rhythm to the music; it was a careless, and a messy solution to an otherwise meaningless problem.

On the other hand, it was almost chaotic, and began to intrigue him about humans.

“Loki, get a move on.”

He feels Thor’s familiar grab hold onto his arm, and he drags them to where everyone else is. Loki had ordered a glass of red, which was mediocre compared to drinks he had on Asgard. The room they were in was a balcony with glass walls, where it was quieter and a more tolerable atmosphere than the one beneath them. He settled himself in a corner, checking on the people below as the rest of his group mingled. He scanned the floor, flitting his eyes through some faces.

It was way past midnight. He was tired and tipsy; although, not as tipsy as the others. Thor, as per usual, could handle is liquor along with Captain America. On the other hand, the spy, the marksman, and Tony Stark, especially, had to be carried out by the others, and Loki had to do his part by opening the doors for all of them.

As Tony’s bodyguard pulled over in a large vehicle, he caught you one last time for the evening, leaning against a wall, the man’s body pressed close to you. The sober Avengers were busy trying to put the drunk Avengers into the car, so Loki knew he has a bit of time to check up on what you’re up to.

He sees you frown and jerk your head away as the man leans in for you. Usually, Loki wouldn’t think about other people’s business, but he felt his blazer collar tighten. He loosened it, unbuttoning the coat, beginning to stride towards you.

But then he sees it; you punch him in the face, keeling from the pain from your knuckles. The man laughs, and Loki’s strides become longer and faster, until another thing.

He sees you knee the man in the worst place possible, and Loki couldn’t help but flinch and stop in his tracks. He watches, the man shouting profanities at you, as you hail a taxi and go into the first one the pulls over.

In all of Loki’s weeks on Earth, nothing has ever made him smirk as wide as you had made him.

“Hey! Gothic Gandalf!” Stark’s voice made Loki’s eyes roll. The billionaire was slurring and didn’t have very good nicknames because of it. “You better not be doing some trouble!”

When the night was over, the next day Nick Fury arrived at the tower for his regular examination of Loki’s behaviour. So, after a couple questions, and a scrutiny of his behaviour in the past few days, he had agreed to lessen his visits now that Loki had worked out to be a functional civilian.

“You’re ready for a house.” Nick said. “But it’ll be chosen by us and monitored by us.”

Thor agreed with a smile. “Well, it’s something.”

“Might as well just put me in a prison.” Loki replied.

“Well,” Nick stirred his coffee, “that is Plan B.”

A week later, Loki, Thor and Nick went through several estate agents to find an apartment. They  entered a few buildings within the city, however they all had to meet to an agreement; Nick wanted to make sure that the place wasn’t close t anything that could give Loki any ideas, Thor just wanted to know if it’s within distance with his house he was planning to get, and Loki just wanted to know why he couldn’t just stay with his brother because all the places he saw was not to his standard of living.

By the time they got to the seventh building, it was at a quaint corner of the city, ad Loki had long decided that he wasn’t going to agree until Fury had actually taken the time and been aware of his terms.

The place was the most decent than the others. He couldn’t hear any neighbours, the floors were evenly spaced, so that guaranteed even living in one of the apartments meant that he could get a decent night’s sleep, and that meant he didn’t have to conjure up anything to fix noise problems.

The Landlord of the place was really overselling it; he flourished in hand movements and waffled in adjectives that complimented the building; he could have just stated that all the apartments had new bathrooms instead of explaining it over five flights of stairs.

He unlocks the door, letting the three of them in. “And, here is the apartment.”

The apartment was occupied with books, a television, a soft sofa, a couple of shoes on the side of the shoe rack, some scarves and jackets on pegs, and the kitchen was sectioned out by a counter, and had a jarring pale orange and black colour scheme.

As the landlord gave information to Fury, who took interest for him, Loki was not impressed.

“It’s a good apartment – that’s the bathroom over there, looking beautiful – and this-“ the landlord opens another door. “And this is the bedroom.”

As soon as the landlord opened the door to the next room, Loki couldn’t believe what he was seeing; it was you, again.

Your expression was in absolute ire and bewilderment the moment they had opened the door. You begin to raise your voice at the landlord, and the landlord begins to save face by angrily putting a front.

Thor crosses his arms, watching you increasing in anger at a situation you weren’t prepared for. “I don’t think this place would be good for you, brother.”

Loki was still stunned by your presence; you were beginning to shout, and Nick Fury was trying to dissolve the situation.

“I liked the previous apartment better.” Thor continues, making sure no one heard him besides Loki. “The person head of the building there didn’t understand us much, but you could definitely tell she was stubborn, and she wouldn’t be putting up with your…“

Loki drowned his brother out in the background. It was mere coincidence that he saw you in the café, in the club, and now in your own apartment. And his brow furrowed at the pattern of it. Was this Strange’s doing? Was this Fury’s? Either way, he wasn’t happy with it being all planned, if it is.

Who are you? And why are you reoccurring in his life?

As his thoughts trail as he looks at you, you catch a glimpse of him, only to immediately look back to him; for the first time, you see him too.

“…Y/N. Just Y/N…” He catches wind of your name as you turn back to Fury.

The rest of your words flew over Loki’s head; you were too wound up with the argument that you didn’t acknowledge your lack of pants, and the fact your blouse was loose around you. You looked as dishevelled from the last time he saw you, like you hadn’t recovered from the club. He couldn’t admit to himself that he was staring at you. He’s seen you get angry, and sad, and messy…

What else have you got?

“I’ll take the place.” Loki said. “I can move in as soon as possible.”

It was rich seeing your jaw drop.

Nick Fury stopped protesting, realising the change in Loki’s behaviour towards you; if he’s distracted, he should be less of a problem.

#loki #loki laufeyson #loki fanfic #loki (marvel) #loki odinson #loki x reader #loki x you #tom hiddleston #MCU #coffeeshop #clubbing #apartment #roommates #thor ragnarok #i hate tags #drabble #doctor strange #thor odinson #nick fury #brunnhilde #🐄🗂TheNomaArchives

[umbrellaacademyfun]

“The Gift Exchange” - a Fanfic

I decided to participate in a TUA Secret Santa gift exchange. ( @secret-santa-klaus) This is my gift for @siolasart! Title: The Gift Exchange

Summary: When the Hargreeves decide to do a gift exchange, Diego has a difficult time finding a gift for Vanya.

Notes:

- AU where the apocalypse was stopped and they still don’t know Vanya has powers. (Don’t ask; just go with it.)

- I’ve never written for Diego before, so this was a bit challenging. Hopefully it’s still enjoyable!

- This is TV show-based

- Available to read on AO3 Read below:

Diego had done a lot of challenging things in his time. Fighting bad guys with the Umbrella Academy was very difficult, despite having a team. Taking on criminals as a vigilante was often arduous as well. Jail was no picnic either. Yet, despite having done all of these things, somehow the task before him was proving to be the most grueling thing he had ever done: Buying a gift for Vanya Hargreeves. 

It was Vanya and Allison’s idea. They were the ones to realize that the family was going to be together for the holidays for the first time since they were teens. Any gift giving had been done on the down-low, holidays being something not outwardly celebrated in the Hargreeves household. (Holidays, Reginald had said, were simply an excuse for less training.) Now that their old man was gone, they had the chance to truly enjoy a Christmas together. The large tree was already sitting in the mansion. Lights and decorations had been sprawled about different areas. Each little section looked different from the next, dependent entirely on who decorated that portion of the house. Though the differences made it a little bit chaotic, there remained a festive feeling to the whole look. The only thing that was missing was gifts. 

This is when Allison suggested they purchase each other gifts. Vanya refined the idea. Being of less money than Allison, and recognizing that a few of her brothers may be in the same financial circumstance, Vanya had an alternate plan. They would each pull one name out of a hat, and purchase a gift for that particular person. Everyone had agreed to this new arrangement. The names were pulled, and Diego found himself reading off the name “Vanya Hargreeves.”

Now, Diego was driving around town, looking for any sort of inspiration. Klaus was in the back, making plenty noise, whispering seemingly to himself. The sound was so consistent, that Diego grew capable of drowning it out. Like white noise for someone to sleep, it became the tones which helped carry Diego’s thoughts. 

He passed by a flower shop. Did Vanya like flowers? Diego realized he didn’t really know what she liked. There had never been a reason for him to focus too hard on Vanya’s preferences or interests. A lot of times, he actively avoided opportunities to learn about her. Particularly after the book. 

The book. Thinking about it now made him angry once more. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the steering wheel a little tighter. Remembering Vanya’s words that she had written for all to see flooded his mind with a number of items to buy her, ranging from thoughtless to mean: A matchbox. Some coal. Her own book. (“Thought you could use the boost in sales,” he would say.) The trio of items together would suggest she should burn her book, a sentiment that curved the corners of his mouth into small smile. 

He shook his head. This was against his plan. This holiday, he had decided, would be an opportunity to make amends. An opportunity to, somewhat begrudgingly, put the past behind him. Allison had encouraged this gentler thinking. While he had made no indication that he agreed to it, the thought had been kept at the front of his mind until it grew into a desire of his own. The next shop to catch his eye was a lingerie shop. The “nope” in his mind was so loud, he had to wonder if he had said it out loud.

“Oh, this is perfect.” The voice came from the back seat. Klaus, of course, had hitched a ride. “You can let me out here.”

Diego gladly pulled over, waiting for Klaus to exit. The former looked again out the window. 

“You think Luther wants lingerie?” Diego raised an eyebrow. 

“No, not here. There,” said Klaus, motioning off towards some other, equally questionable shop. 

Diego paused, trying to determine if he should speak up. Remembering the gift was going to Luther, he decided otherwise. 

“Okay,” he said. “Have fun.”  

Klaus stepped out and wandered off, leaving Diego truly alone with his thoughts. As he continued driving, he felt more resentful. Why did he have to buy a gift? Why did he have to buy a gift for Vanya? There were easier people to get gifts. He knew for certain what Klaus would want (whether he’d buy it or not was a different kind of conflict.) Five would probably be easy. If it was coffee or a nice drink, he’d be set. His gift to Luther would probably be something monkey-themed (and not in the spirit of making amends.) His mind continued to avoid the task at hand, determining what gift he would buy for everyone else in the family. By the next block, he had a full list for everyone except Vanya, including Pogo and Mom. 

He almost stopped his car suddenly. He realized something in this moment: No one was getting a gift for Pogo or Mom. This was an egregious oversight – and a convenient excuse for Diego. The whole event must be re-done. Never matter if most of the others had already purchased their gifts; they must re-draw new names with Mom and Pogo included. Diego saw the chance to get a new name, and an easier person for whom to buy a gift. 

He pulled over, finding a place to park with a meter. After loading the meter with several minutes worth of change, he set off quickly. He crossed one, street. Then another street. Another turn around a street, and he saw what he was looking for: A pay phone. 

The phone on the other end rang twice before someone answered. 

“Hello?” Allison. Just the voice Diego wanted to hear. 

“We have to cancel the gift exchange,” said Diego. 

“Why?” asked Allison. She said the word with an incredulous tone before Diego could even explain himself. 

“Mom and Pogo aren’t included. You really think, after all they’ve done, that they shouldn’t be a part of this? And don’t feed me some lines about how Mom isn’t a person.” 

“Oh,” said Allison. Her voice was much smaller now. Diego felt himself start smiling; he was winning. 

“I thought I told you,” she said. “We thought we should go in together and buy them a gift. They’ve done so much for us. I mean, they took care of us more than Dad ever did. They deserve something nicer. I was hoping you could pick something for Mom? You know her the best.”

Diego felt his heart sinking. A swirl of guilt and gratitude and affection mixed in his core. Allison had considered everything, including how kind their mom had been to them. Diego was touched that she entrusted him with picking something for their mom, a much easier purchase for him. This also meant that Diego was stuck still choosing something for Vanya.

“Diego?” He hadn’t said anything for several minutes, wasting change in the process. 

“That’s,” he started before he stumbled over his words. “That’s a good idea.” 

“Great!” She said. “Let me know what you have in mind and I’ll buy it if you don’t have time. It’ll be nice to finally do something for her.”

“Yeah,” agreed Diego. Throughout his life, their mom had been there for all of them. No matter when or what was going on, she always knew just what to say or do. Mom knew each of them better than anyone, knowing exactly what they wanted or needed at anytime. 

A light bulb switched on in his mind. Where there had been a dark fog, now clarity resided. He had no idea what to get Vanya – but there was someone who would. 

“Actually,” he started. “Can you put Mom on the line?”

The day arrived. The children, now adults, were gathered together near their oversized tree. Eight gifts were beneath, humbled by the size of the evergreen fir looming over them. Each one had a tag with their own individual “to” and “from.” Allison ceremoniously handed them out. Vanya helped, giving them to her siblings with less formality. 

Each was opened simultaneously, for which Diego was grateful. Despite the help with his gift, he was, for reasons he couldn’t explain, nervous to see her reaction. Now he could ignore what she did when she saw the present exposed for what it was. 

He could also ignore the modest piece of jewelry Luther had given Allison, paying no mind to how in awe she looked, despite owning pieces twice as beautiful. 

There was no reason to notice the puzzle of the earth from space that Klaus had given Luther, though Diego heard Klaus declare “so you could remember the view from up there!” 

He missed Five’s eyes grow wide with interest at his new coffee maker and collection of exquisite roasts – the closest expression he would give to a smile. (Allison still recognized it as gratitude.)

Vanya’s brief, insecure muttering about the skirts she gave Klaus got Diego’s  attention. (“This way,” she said, “you don’t have to borrow Allison’s. And they can be more in style?”) His mind suggested her apprehensive muttering had been about his gift. Listening more closely gave him a sense of comfort, before reminding him to stop paying attention for when she actually saw his gift. 

Instead, he focused on the gift he held in his own hands. It was a beautiful set of throwing knives gifted by Five. (When asked how they were obtained, Five mumbled something about not asking too many questions.) The blades shined gloriously, the glint from the sun looking crisp and clear and marvelous. Both the handles and blades had an intricate, interwoven design engraved near the edges. These were the type of blades that could become a calling card, a warning to any criminals that saw them that the Kraken was on their trail. 

“Diego!” he heard cried out. When he turned his head, he saw Vanya looking into the now-opened box. She looked at him, something like wonder on her face. “This is amazing. How did you know?”

“Don’t get use to it,” he said dryly. He turned his attention back to his new blades. The poker face was strong with this one, refusing to let him show how pleased he was with her reaction. How, almost more than the knives he had received, getting her gift right made this a great Christmas for him. 

Yet, when Vanya went in for a hug, Diego didn’t protest.

#tua secret santa #tua secret santa 2019 #tua #the umbrella academy #umbrella academy #diego hargreeves #tua christmas #siolasart

[tyson-berry-blog]

Auston Matthews #1 - Prom

This is my first attempt at any sort of imagine/ specific character writing. The inspiration for this prompt came from my little brother going to prom recently and asking his girlfriend in a similar fashion. 

Auston had always been a year ahead of you in school. When he had graduated and subsequently been drafted you two decided to continue your relationship despite the distance.

During one of your Friday night skype calls you had mentioned to Auston that the official theme for prom had come out. The committee apparently had some clashing views so the end result was more of a mix of various classic themes that they hoped appealed to everyone. He had laughed at that and asked, “so when is it?”

“Uh,” you paused and pulled up the calendar on your phone, “Saturday March 4th at 7.”

Auston pulled out his own phone, “perfect. We play Anaheim on the third then I’ll fly down in the morning and be there in time.”

You looked at Auston in confusion, “wait fly down? Auston you’re coming?”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I take my girlfriend to her senior prom? Unless of course,” he smiled cheekily, “you were planning on going with someone else. I know that Brandon from the lacrosse team always had his eye on you.”

You rolled your eyes, “Brandon has been dating Thomas for three years and you know it.”

“Alright well, how are you going to ask me?”

“Ask you? Why am I asking you?”

“Well how I see it is that I asked you last year. It’s only fair that since you still go to that school that you ask me,” said Auston like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Whatever,” you grumbled, “we’ll see.”

“You better make it pretty,” he teased, “I want to be wooed.”

With the help of Mitch, you managed to get two tickets to their home game against Ottawa. Your parents only agreed to let you go after you promised no school would be missed and no grades would drop. It was an easy promise to keep when you actually had something to lose. Your best friend had practically begged you to take her along and since you’d rather not make the trip alone, you easily agreed. The two of you had spent days deciding the best way to go about asking him and it was after hours of internet searching that you picked what you felt was the perfect poster design.

This is why you found yourself shivering as you exited an airplane into Toronto Pearson International Airport during the middle of February. You and your friend quickly made your way to baggage claim and waited as the carousel slowly made its way around. Your obnoxious Maple Leafs patterned bag, which was given as a gag gift from Auston was easy to spot. That was the only upside to something as hideously designed as it was.

With all of your items successfully gathered the two of you left the airport in hopes to flag down a cab. Instead what you found was a man dressed in a rumpled suit holding a sign with your name written in glitter pen. The man in question was a one Mitch Marner who’s already smiling face brightened when he saw you. He waved you over and hugged you with the enthusiasm of a puppy whose owner had returned from vacation.

“What are you doing here?” you questioned.

“Auston would kill me if he found out you were coming and I made you take a cab.”

That answer didn’t surprise you. As much as your boyfriend tried to play it cool and aloof he had a very protective side that could come out at any time. Mitch helped load your luggage into the trunk of his car and opened the door for you and your friend to slide in.

“Why thank you Mr. Marner,” you teased with your best posh impression.

“Please, just call me Mitch. Mr. Marner is my father.”

The three of you settled in for the drive to your hotel and it was the quiet singing from Mitch that kept the ride from getting too uncomfortable. About fifteen minutes away from your hotel his phone began ringing and vibrating loudly enough to startle you and wake your friend who had dozed off beside you. According to the Bluetooth in Mitch’s car it was Auston calling.

“Shit,” you swore under your breath.

Mitch glanced at you in the mirror, “if I don’t answer now he’ll keep calling. You know how he is.”

You did in fact know how your boyfriend got. You gave Mitch a quick nod and he pressed the answer button on his steering wheel.

“Yo, Mitchy!” your boyfriend’s voice filled the car and you couldn’t help the small smile that appeared on your face.

Mitch saw you and rolled his eyes, “yeah Matts, what’s up?”

“We still on for dinner tonight man? Willy wants to know.”

Mitch paused, “uh yeah as far as I know. Just gotta drop some stuff off first.”

“Alright cool. See you at seven.”

He hung up and you couldn’t help the giggles you let out.

“Drop some stuff off,” you said struggle to catch your breath between laughter, “nice choice of words there Mitchy.”

“Yeah shut up, whatever.”

You were about to respond when you felt your phone vibrate in your lap with an incoming facetime call.

The panic must have been evident in your eyes because Mitch didn’t open his mouth to tease you. You let the call ring out and pulled up your messages to text your boyfriend.

“Hey can’t talk now. I’ll call you later.”

The response was almost immediate, “ok. Everything ok?”

You sent back a simple thumbs up and closed the app. You knew if you continued the conversation you’d end up spoiling the surprise.

The car pulled into the hotel parking lot and Mitch helped unload your things before giving you a quick hug and climbing back into the car.

“I better get home and change before the guys wonder where I am.”

“Yes have fun with them. Thanks for the ride!”

“Of course,” Mitch started the car, “you’re my friend too.”

He checked for cars before reversing out of the space and driving off. You and your friend gathered your things and checked in at the front desk. The hotel was nice enough that there would be no fear of unwanted bugs but not too nice that you would be broke for months. It was also close enough to the stadium that you could walk to and from the game. The two of you decided to stay in for the night and go out and explore in the morning. It had been an exhausting day and after a quick shower you were both out like lights.

There was an insistent buzzing from your night stand that woke you up. You hadn’t turned your alarm on as it was Saturday and you actually were able to sleep in. The buzzing eventually stopped and after nearly blinding yourself with the brightness of the screen you saw you had a series of missed calls and texts from your boyfriend. You checked to make sure you hadn’t woken your friend and quietly made your way into the bathroom to listen to the voicemails. The first few were just Auston saying he was calling to check in because you had missed your Friday night facetime. By the third one he was wondering if he had done something wrong and you were mad at him. The fifth and final one was sad enough to hurt your heart as he sounded defeated. Though you were sure there had to be alcohol involved you hated how upset he sounded. Scrolling through the texts you saw that they followed the same general line and you quickly pulled up a new message to him, “Hey I am so sorry I didn’t call you back. I had a long day and fell asleep super early.”

You hoped Auston wasn’t too upset with you over this. You were planning the promposal tonight and if he was mad it might not go over well. Since you were up you decided to just get ready for the day. With a quick peek out the door you could see your friend start to stir and you hurried to get done before she needed into the bathroom.

There were no strict plans for the day. You had decided to walk around Toronto for a bit before grabbing a late lunch and going back to the hotel to get ready. Auston had given you a jersey just after his signing claiming it was the custom. His parents and sisters had each gotten one as well and it while it didn’t seem like a big deal you understood the unsaid sentiment. You put it on and layered up with the numerous other pieces of gear you had acquired over his time on the team. Not all of it was Maple Leafs themed and you were sure this was his subtle attempt at trying to convince you to move up north for college.

Satisfied with your outfit and being sure to grab the rolled up poster, you and your friend exited the hotel and prepared for the trek through the snow to the Air Canada Centre. It was already bustling with fans when you arrived and received your tickets at will call. It was only when you began walking to your seats did you feel the nerves in your stomach. The two teams were starting their warm ups with the Leafs on the side closest to you. Auston and a few others had their backs to you but Mitch watched you approach. He managed to keep Auston’s attention on him as you unraveled the poster you had made. Once it was open he nudged your boyfriend in the side and pointed over his shoulder towards you. He spun around and you watched as a range of emotions flitted across his face. He blinked a couple times as if he was sure you were a figment of his imagination.

Auston skated over to you and shouted through the glass, “what are you doing here?”

You pointed to the poster in your hands that read “Scoring a Date with You Would be Pucking Awesome. Prom?”

He threw his head back in laughter before nodding, “yes. Of course I’ll go to prom with you.”

“Was it special enough for you?” you asked in reference to your conversation over a month ago.

Auston looked at you quizzically, “what?”

“Did I woo you? Were you wooed enough?”

The realization dawned on his face, “yes! Consider me officially wooed.”

The two of you stared adoringly at each other until Mitch skated over and pushed Auston, “I am all for this cute lovey dovey shit but dude we’ve got a game to get ready for.”

Your boyfriend was startled as if he had forgotten where he was. He looked back to you, “meet me at the locker room after the game okay? I love you but I have to go.”

You nodded back, “yeah I love you too. Now shoo. Go play a game.”

Your friend had taken pictures of the event and posted it to her twitter. By the end of the first period it had already blown up and was retweeted to the Maple Leafs official account. As far as promposals went you had a feeling it was one of the more memorable ones.

#nhl imagines #nhl imagine #auston matthews imagine #hockey imagines #toronto maple leafs imagine #auston matthews #Toronto Maple Leafs