#nem quiet down

[khlor0s]

*leans against wall* hi nem :)

Owemgee hi toasty…

You taste… like bread

OMNOMNOMN-

#nem quiet down #my favorite cat thats actually bread #TOASTED. ROASTED. #listen… would your evil twin be br3adroasty?? #or cakeroasty… #4 am thoughts are insane

[nightingaletrash]

Either the party needs to stage an intervention or we need to bonk Gale on the head with a big sign that says DON'T whenever his wizard hubris starts to show

#bg3 #bg3 spoilers #gale dekarios #nem's gonna stage group therapy at this rate #went from talking gale down from [redacted] to having to wrestle him away from his delusions of [redacted] #karlach should pick him up every time he starts talking about karsus and insisting he's built different #put him in wizard timeout until the hubris quiets down

[myouicieloz]

sub!giselle begging to eat reader out and being left pussydrunk ‼️ love your work siss

Pretty please

Aeri Uchinaga x 5thmember!reader

Warnings: smut.

Word count: 2.1k

Notes: te amo laroca <3 obrigada por me apoiar nas minhas esquisitices mais malucas e sempre sempre me fazer rir. vc nem deve ver isso mas esse smut meia boca (daquele jeito vc sabe😭) vai pra vc. e tbm eu fiz dom!giselle pq n é vc que manda eu q mando.

ps: I’ve kinda combined those two asks together so I hope you don’t mind, anon ^^

“Hey Aeri, do you want to watch some movies?” You ask, just as Aeri is headed to the kitchen. She smiles at you, nodding as she approaches the massive sofa.

“Sure, baby.” Her eyes travel to the dark corridor before pulling you into her lap, making sure none of the girls would stop by and ruin the moment.

Instead of the so-promised vacation, your group was stuck with full days of schedules and oversea fan meetings, on top of each girl’s solo projects. With that, it’s been the first time in weeks you and Giselle managed to be alone, in peace for the dark hours of the night before being busy all over again.

“Can I pick?” You both know it’s not an actual question— your hands are already reaching out for the remote, but Aeri hums anyway, content on having you so close by.

You smile as your favorite movie shows up on the massive TV screen, happy to watch your comfort animation after a tiring week. Snuggling beside your girlfriend, you feel cozy and safe, embraced by her strong her arms. You’re nearly falling asleep when you feel Aeri’s hands inside your shirt, caressing your waist with a look you know too well.

“Aeri…” You whine, nudging her faintly— even though she barely moves, much stronger than you are. “Come on, stop. I want to pay attention to the movie.”

She blocks your view from the screen completely, hands still on your waist and an adorable pout on her face. You look away, well aware your girlfriend can get you to do anything with that look.

“Please, Y/n. You know how stressful this week has been.” She pleads, pecking your lips. You keep them shut, but it doesn’t take long for you to melt under Aeri’s touch. “I need you, baby… pretty please?”

You sigh, trying to hide your smirk once you allow your girlfriend to kiss you deeply, licking and tugging on your lips like she’s never had a taste of you before. Her hands reach for the hem of your sweatpants, but you stop her fingers from wandering further.

“Let’s go to the bedroom, the girls might see us if we stay here…” You grab her wrist, biting your lip. You’d be too ashamed to ever face your bandmates’ faces if that ever happened.

Aeri brushes her nose against your neck, giggling when she feels you shiver under her. Her smile deepens, and her voice sounds proud as she answers you. “But don’t you want to watch the movie, baby? They won’t barge in, don’t worry.” Her hands squeeze your thighs, then, petty to not have you agree to her wishes without complaints. “You just have to be quiet. Can you do that? Be quiet for me?”

She’s able to get you to do everything with that tone, and she makes good use of that. With a subtle move, she places her body over yours, one hand setting up the volume of the movie with the remote while the other one begins to lift up your shirt, letting out a satisfied hum once you quickly finish the job yourself, now naked under your girlfriend’s touch.

Aeri’s clothes are off in a second, too, and her hands assault your body once again. Her long nails scratch down your hips, hands groping everywhere, making their way to reach out for your boobs. By then, you’re a whimpering mess, struggling to stay still in the cushions as she pinches and twists your nipples rather harshly —just how you like it, making your mission of staying quiet nearly impossible.

“I knew you wouldn’t make it.” Giselle laughs, hands on your thighs to bring your pussy closer to hers. “You’re too loud, baby. I love it.”

She stays still for a moment, brushing her hair out of her face to admire your body. Her eyes, ever so greedy, go all the way from your skin— slightly reddened by the work she had done with her nails, to your pussy, already glistening with the thought of being touched by the Uchinaga.

You don’t look away, too proud of having her look at you with such desire. She lowers her head, then, and _spits_, her saliva coating your wet pussy. Aeri spreads it generously with her thumb, making a show of fingering your pussy in a slow, deep rhythm. You no longer care about the movie, biting your hand in attempts of keeping your breathless moans to yourself. In fact, you're so focused you barely register how your girlfriend takes one of your legs against herself, positioning your cunts together until she lowers her body and your pussy touches hers.

“Aeri— oh _fuck_” You grasp, reaching out for her bare back. Your long nails scratch her skin relentlessly, mind long lost in the sea of sensations she was making you feel.

She rolls her hips, voice echoing loud through the room as your clits touch. You’ve now realized how touch-starved for your girlfriend you were. Aeri she holds you by the waist, placing wet kisses on your neck while her cunt pulsates on top of yours, and the friction is more than enough to radiate that insatiable feeling from your lower abdomen through all your body, making you nearly come in the spot. Your girlfriend’s own moans are loud, nothing short of pornographic; she rolls her eyes, breathless and lost in her own pleasure, too.

Once again, your pussy slides onto hers, in a faster rhythm. It’s enough to drive you crazy, mumbling and whining for her to not stop, to go even faster, to not let go of you…

Aeri revels in seeing you fall apart under her touch. Eager to get those unholy sounds out of you, her fingers reach out for your clit, still focused on brushing her dripping cunt in yours. It’s a mere presence, barely circling your numb bud at all— yet it’s enough to send a wave of shock to your body.

“A-Aeri, oh fuck!” You arch your back, doing everything possible to get your pussy closer to hers. Your pleasure is strong, building up in the pitch of your stomach too quickly, but Aeri stops her movements as soon as she registers the way you tense: a clear sign you’re about to cum. “Hm? Baby? Why’d you stop?” You ask, voice small and uncertain, even though you’ve just had your orgasm ruined. You can’t act defiant towards her, not when her weight is pressing you under her body, and her strong muscles are doing all the work. The only thing you feel is how upset you are, unable to talk back or scold the Uchinaga, deep in your headspace.

She knows your body with the palm of her hand. As soon as your breathing had become quick, and you had your eyebrows furrowed, Aeri knew you were close. Laughing at your confusion, she purposefully alternates between masturbating your pussy then hers, without rush.

“Do you see this, Y/n?” She asks, caressing your neck to guide your head downward, towards the sight of both of your pussies, red and puffy from the friction. “My oh my, how pretty we are.” One of her hands squeezes your breasts hard, before giving both of them light slaps.

In a swift motion, her hands circle your waist, switching positions so you’re half-seated on top of her abdomen, instead. You look at her with a confused frown, tilting your head a bit to the side.

“Sit on my face, please?” She pleads, cupping your ass to reaffirm her words. You do as told, resting your hands on top of the sofa before nodding. You’d do anything to cum, head clouded by the thought of relief— and Aeri knows it. It’s what makes her smile, breath hot under you, as she hovers her mouth through all of your cunt. “God, I’ve missed your taste so much.”

You lean your head back, movements led by Aeri’s strong hands on your thighs as you bite your lip so strongly you feel the metallic taste going down your throat.

“You could’ve just… said so…” You’re breathless, yet your tone still holds a certain grudge to it. “I’ve been dying to touch you, do anything with you all week.” You roll your eyes, then, swirling your hips on her tongue rather harshly. She deserved it, for not paying enough attention to you during so many days. “If you only looked at me at all…”

An uninvited scream leaves your lips once you feel your ass being spanked. Aeri growls, satisfied with your reaction, and slaps your ass once, twice again.

“Shut up and cum.” She demanded, groping your skin so tightly it would certainly bruise.

You should’ve complained; Aeri’s harsh tone and impatient words were not like familiar to you at all. Yet, all you could do was moan loudly, going crazy by your girlfriend’s tongue lapping on your entrance as her nose hit your clit repeatedly. You find yourself desperate, shoving your face onto her without a care about your girlfriend. Thankfully, she didn’t seem to mind; if anything, she was truly starved, taking you in.

You could also feel it— from the way she held you by the hips, to the satisfied moans she let out every couple of seconds, too. This was as much for your pleasure as it was for hers, you both knew so.

It was all too good. Aeri’s tongue was all over your pussy, making a true show of gathering all of your sex to herself— letting her mouth be used for your pleasure only. As moments passed, you could no longer fight the pleasure building up in your abdomen, eager for release.

“M’ gonna c—“ You had no time to warn your girlfriend, falling apart in her mouth. She held you once your body began to shake, lewd sounds coming out of your mouth along with incoherent mumbles.

Aeri happily collected all of your juices, careful to not suck on your clit. She had no plans of overstimulating you; she’d save it for someday you were able to truly enjoy yourselves, taking her time to prepare your body.

Although seeing you drunk on your orgasm, crying like a little bitch was a heavenly sight, one she deeply missed.

“I’ll never get tired of your taste.” She smiled, pulling you into her lap once you’d calmed down. You hummed, trying not to pay her much attention while her sultry mouth placed kisses on your chest. “I missed you too much, baby… come on, don’t be difficult. You’ve been busy, too.”

Her words are truthful enough to make you sigh, grabbing her face with both hands. Her mouth is glistening, still filled with your arousal, and her bangs are messy, as if the wind had blown it up— you’ve never seen a prettier sight.

You wish you could have her all to yourself, forever.

“I love you.” It’s all you answer. Your thumb travels her lips— now rosy and slightly swollen, and you spread your arousal even more before giving Aeri another kiss; slow and passionate, just like she had done to you earlier on.

She smiles back, motioning to the movie playing on the TV. “And I love you more, baby. Now, let’s watch the movie? No funny business this time, I promise.”

You smile back, nodding. “Sure. Movie it is.”

Soon enough, your clothes were back on, and you were once again curled up with your girlfriend, now feeling much more relaxed and happy.

“Fucking finally! I’ve been wanting to get water for ages.” You hear Minjeong grumble, passing through the living room with her hands half-covering her eyes, afraid of seeing too much.

Before Aeri speaks up, Karina and Ningning’s screams are heard too, complaining from their rooms about how the two of you were gross and would have to do a massive cleaning session at the dorm, later.

Mortified, all you do is hide your face in the crook of Aeri’s neck, jokingly slapping her arm because she keeps laughing, content with how her day went.

#kpop x reader #kpop smut #kpop x y/n #giselle x reader #giselle smut #aespa x fem reader #aespa x reader #aespa smut #aespa imagines #aespa giselle smut #aeri uchinaga x yn #aeri uchinaga smut #aeri uchinaga x reader #s.writes

[sol941sblog]

Ter um namorado e baixar a guarda

ser menos, ser mais.

É dar um beijo de batom vermelho no

escuro do cinema e quando as luzes

se acendem, rir, ficar quieta

e deixar que todos percebam

sua cara lambuzada. É te dar liberdade

de ir e vir saber que podes chegar

sem hora marcada. Mas nem tente se

sentir bem sem a minha presença

para que eu não pense que não

tenho mais posse deste sentimento

só meu, nosso...

Saber que dentre seis bilhões de pessoas, tem um...o meu namorado!

mfpoton✍️

Having a boyfriend and letting your guard down, being less, being more.

It's giving a kiss with red lipstick in the dark of the cinema, and when the lights come up, laughing, staying quiet and letting everyone look at your face smeared with red lipstick. It gives you freedom to And come and know that you know how to arrive on time. But don't even try to feel good without my presence so that I don't think that I no longer have this feeling that's mine, ours... Know that out of 6 bi Of people there is one... My boyfriend!

أن يكون لديك صديق وتتخلى عن حذرك هو أن تكون أقل، وأن تكون أكثر هو أن تتخلى عن حذرك هو أن تعطي قبلة في ظلام السينما في باتام أحمر وعندما تضاء الأضواء، تضحك، وتلتزم الصمت حتى يتمكن الجميع من رؤية حبيبك. مشاعر.وجه ملطخ. فهو يمنحك حرية الحضور والذهاب، مع العلم أنه يمكنك الوصول دون موعد. لكن لا تحاول حتى أن تشعر بالارتياح بدون وجودي حتى لا أفكر ولا يعود لدي هذا الشعور

مع العلم أنه من بين 6 مليارات شخص هناك شخص واحد، هناك واحد... صديقي!.

#claudia mateus #marcus cruzes #didiribeiro #alternative rock #aikolis #lacarolita #leusaposts #maryflorlovebloq

[mysteroads]

Excerpt from All Fun and Games

“Don't stay up late!” Shouta warned loudly. “It's a school night.”

The League paused at the stairs and turned, all of them with expressions innocent as angels and honest as politicians. 

“Yes Eraserdaddy!” the whole group chorused— with the exception of the three kids, Kurogiri, and Shigaraki. Even Midoriya was in on it, obviously torn between hilarity and terror as he stuttered on the last two syllables.

Shouta flushed as the whole room erupted into giggles and whispered versions of: "I can't believe they did it!", turning to find half the class was filming. Apparently, he was the victim of a conspiracy. He eyed them balefully, thinking dark thoughts about pop quizzes and revenge.

Meanwhile, Toga threw her arms around Kurogiri, assuring him loudly that he was still the League's “shadow dad” and not to be jealous. The ghostly man sighed, patting her on the head, but didn’t look displeased. 

Spinner socked Shigaraki in the arm that wasn't holding Kana. “You were supposed to say it too!” he scolded. “You chicken!”

Shigaraki stepped out of range with a sneer. “I don’t need or want another father figure, thanks, and I'm not about to call Aizawa daddy in public.” He paused, then hummed thoughtfully. “Could be negotiated for in private, though.”

Dead silence.

In that silence, Shigaraki took Aisho's hand again and led her to the stairs. “Now then, since I missed this afternoon's debriefing, why don't you tell me what Kurogiri taught you in preschool today?”

Aisho bounced onto her toes with excitement, holding tight to his hand as they maneuvered up the steps. “Oh! Today, Eri and Hōō started learning how to sound out big words! And Kana and I learned more about shapes!”

“Shapes, huh? What's your favorite? I've always liked triangles best. Sharp angles. Good for stabbing.”

Their voices faded, leaving the common area to its awkward silence. Silence broken by a high pitched, wheezing squeak, like a dying balloon about to give up the ghost. All eyes turned to Dabi, who was bent over, hands braced on his knees, the undamaged part of his face bright red as he fought for air. Magne thumped him between the shoulder blades, which was enough to let him suck in a desperate breath and start cackling.

That set off the rest of the League, except for Kurogiri, who looked instead like he was going through all five stages of grief at once. 

Hōō, secure in Hawk's arms, looked around and, with the unerring ability of a child to ask the questions adults dread most, asked, “Does Mr. Shiggy want to call Mr. Zawa daddy? ‘Cause Mr. Zawa is Aisha and Kana’s daddy, not Mr. Shiggy’s.”

The League howled.

Dabi went straight to the floor, followed by Spinner. Toga was practically dancing as she squealed, “Oh my gosh! I’ve never ever ever heard Tomu-chan flirt before! He goes right for the kill!”

This time the students couldn't keep quiet. 

Within seconds, the entire Bakusquad was curled in various positions on and off the furniture, clutching their middles, tears streaming down their faces as they laughed and laughed. Bakugo had turned his back, but Shouta could see his face reflected in a window: his eyes and cheeks were bulging in an effort not to laugh. Uraraka had choked on her own spit and was torn between coughing and laughing; Momo’s blush had spread down her neck like a sunburn; and Asui had covered her face, shoulders shaking. Todoroki seemed completely lost. Ida, scandalized, was waving his arm at everyone, trying to get them to “Settle down, now! This is obviously an adult matter! It’s almost curfew! We should all go to bed!”

Shouta’s attention, however, was on Shinso. His son was laser-focused on his phone, Eri peering intently over his shoulder. 

“Shinso,” he growled.

Hitoshi looked up, lazy purple eyes wide in an attempt at innocence. “Yeah, Dad?”

“You had better not be sending that video to Hizashi or Nem, or I swear, I’ll hang you upside down from a tree for the rest of the night.”

“I’m definitely not doing that,” Hitoshi promised.

Eri frowned. “But… you’re on the family chat,” she protested.

Hitoshi cleared his throat. “What I meant was: I may have already done that.”

Right on cue, Shouta’s phone began to buzz with incoming messages. He’d give it fifteen minutes before the entire UA staff saw the video in all its horror.

Face burning, he unwound his capture scarf and activated his quirk. He would not suffer alone. 

The students and former villains who could still move scattered, heartlessly abandoning their incapacitated comrades to face the wrath of an embarrassed Eraserhead.

#fanfiction #my hero academia #funny #mha #bnha #boku no hero academia #shigaraki tomura #shouta aizawa #eraserhead #dabi #dabihawks #Class 1-A #League of Villains #League Shenanigans #I swear it's funny #Explosions to come

[l-e-morgan-author]

Draft cover for the on-newsletter-signup free stories which I haven't finished editing yet. (So you can't have them yet; I'll finish editing them to my satisfaction before I open up my email newsletter.)

Further ramble below; it got kind of long. First about what these stories are about, then more rambling about my current works-in-progress and specifically aspects of Patience, Changing that I'm enjoying. Might recycle some of this for the next newsletter tbh.

A quick and not-edited summary of each story:

Ever Changing, Ever Near - Hadassah is different to everyone else, but despite that finds great joy in the changing seasons.

A Fragile Solace - Hadassah and Nem are friends. Despite what happens after, she treasures the friendship that they have.

Both stories were entered to (different) local competitions and were highly commended. I can't give an estimated story length because at least A Fragile Solace requires a bunch of editing that may lengthen it. Since I no longer have a word count requirement because I'm not planning on submitting them to any other competitions, I can go ham on them.

In case you don't know who Hadassah is, Hadassah is from the 2022(? maybe '23) Inklings challenge, which I wrote about 8k of. I was Team Lewis, portal fantasy. A very rough summary is that Hadassah is an autistic girl in a neurotypical world, one of the peasants of that world and chosen to be sent through a portal. Nobody knows what lies beyond. For Hadassah, what lies beyond is found family such as she hasn't experienced her entire life.

I found getting into her head unreasonably hard at the time, which is why I wanted to write stories about her, and why I haven't finished drafting her story. With more understanding of autistic people and also myself than I had then, I expect that when I get back to that properly I'll find it a lot easier to write.

I also intend to edit The Patience of Hope to be another newsletter freebie - the edited version, I mean. I intend to leave the first draft up on my website indefinitely, even if an edited version is published as part of something else (such as A Quiet Patience, though with the number of novellas I've got planned, that might be quite long...). But that's for a little way down the road, not yet.

As for a general update on writing generally, I've written a little bit more of Hands Made for Gentleness, but not much. That will require a lot of working with it once the first draft is done, but I've written up a rough outline of the rest of the main story beats, and I have a clearer idea where I'm going. I'm ideally going to finish drafting Patience, Changing before I really get back to that, which is about 20k away (yay!). I'm thoroughly into the third act, figuring out I need to know my characters better so the third act will require a good deal of rewriting, even though the bones are good. I'm pleased with the balance of characters, and at times even though I'm going "Hmm this needs work", I can switch that off and just work on it. I've been writing drabbles every day for this month, and currently I'm one (1) day behind. The drabbles have been helpful, providing scene ideas I can flesh out into full scenes, so they might be a bit janky in context, but I can edit that later.

I've really enjoyed two characters I didn't intend to include in this manuscript: Hannah (Patience's aunt) and Connie (who Patience meets in hospital). Hannah is a symbol of the seriousness of anorexia, and I am not looking forward to writing her death. At present the scene I'm writing is set on the 19th of November, 2018, and Hannah dies on the 16th of December, 2018. She's already written the letter to Patience, as well as the anonymous letter Patience doesn't realise is from her and which needs rewriting. But she has to die and it will tear my heart out to write her, though I've got to read at least a good chunk of A Grief Observed (C. S. Lewis) before I write about that. At present her death is set for the third last chapter, but I expect to rearrange things - events that I thought would work for two chapters turned out I'll need to significantly rewrite to get to even one chapter, so I'll probably use those events to close the second act rather than close the second act and open the third act as well, and therefore rearrange things to give enough space for Hannah's death. If I go over my planned word count in these chapters that's fine; whatever works. I just don't want to go under.

Having the 3k aim has been really good, because some of the time it's forced me to write 'filler' that I reread and am convinced I'll keep in, and sometimes it's kept me to only that long which is good practise too.

Oh, and also! The other character I've enjoyed. Connie. Connie's in hospital following a suicide attempt, but the psych ward's full up and she's not considered at high risk so she's in a general paeds ward, which is where she meets Patience. She isn't particularly forthcoming about why she's in, and Patience respects that. She suspects but is only told right at the end:

“You make me brave,” she said to Patience, just before she was transferred. “I came in here with a suicide attempt and you have made me discover I want to live. Live! When living has been a slow death all this time. You make me want to live. I wasn’t going to make it and I was okay with that. Now I’m going to fight, because of you.”

They keep in touch afterwards, and probably when I edit The Patience of Hope I'll include a scene with Connie in it. Because just as Hannah has to die, Connie has to live. I love the way both of these characters add to Patience's journey, but without trivialising her own very real issues. That's definitely something I'll have to do an edit pass to make sure I'm not doing, because yes, in the grand scheme of things Patience's hangups are very small but to her they're huge. Which is why I held off on writing this story for a good five years, and I'm terribly glad I did, because this story is far better than it would have been years ago.

Anyway. I'm rambling. All this to say that while I'm struggling a bit with writing it, Patience is still going swimmingly. I anticipate finishing the draft either by end of this month (stretch goal) or next month (realistic goal). Then I can dive back into Hands Made for Gentleness and maybe plotting The Time Travelling Midwife and/or Hadassah's story on the side.

I'm also having a fantastic time with Patience and Nathan's interactions at thirteen/fourteen:

“You’ll get through it,” he said. “In Christ, Patience. In Christ.” She smiled at him. He was very dear to her, standing there awkwardly and smiling his dear awkward smile back.

#tw suicide #hadassah winter #patience changing #patience shepherd #hands made for gentleness #I forget any other tags I want for this xD taglist coming in reblog

[thelastarchangelaskblog]

Seventh Year: Reconciliations Bonus Scene 6

This is the last one I have fully typed out for now for this chapter. Have at least two more I'd like to do that I've started but which aren't finished. If there are any others you'd like to see, you can drop a note or an ask. :)

This one is definitely the longest! I'll let you figure out where this one goes. :P

Bonus Scene 1

Bonus Scene 2

Bonus Scene 3

Bonus Scene 4

Bonus Scene 5

Bonus Scene 7

Bonus Scene 8

**

“We need to talk.”

Spinning around on a heel where ne had been perusing the latest books Jane had gotten nem, Samael was faced with Natasha and James. James was hanging slightly back, clearly intending to let Natasha lead here.

“I didn’t know we were in a relationship,” Samael said slowly, gently closing nir book.

There was a slightly amused twist at Natasha’s lips, but there was no laugh. It was clear she was dead serious about whatever was nagging at her. “It’s about Michael.”

Michael was with Gabriel at the moment, and Samael couldn’t remember him getting into more tussles with Gabriel’s friends… “Has he done something? Has Clint done something?”

“Surprisingly enough, no,” James muttered, mouth twitching in a small smile.

Natasha huffed, sending James a look before turning her attention back to Samael. “We don’t know him that well, and Tony prefers looking on the bright side of things, so we’re asking you if he’s normally like this.”

“Like…?” Samael thought about Michael and how he’d been behaving recently. It wasn’t that unusual…? Granted, he was avoiding Samael like the plague, but that wasn’t too surprising considering everything. And Michael before the Fall… “He’s always been quiet, if that’s what you mean. Not everyone’s as gregarious as Gabriel or Balthazar. You’ve met Gadreel, and just look at Raphael.”

As if she heard her name, Raphael stepped into the physical realm next to Samael, arching her eyebrows at nem. “What about me?” Her tone was dry.

Natasha turned to her, eyes keen. “Is this normal for Michael?”

Raphael considered the question, expression thoughtful. “He’s always been quiet…distant.” Her tone was as distant as how she was describing Michael. “But there were extenuating circumstances that time.”

Natasha pursed her lips. “Tony… He told us one time that you can suffer from mental health issues like humans can.”

“You’re included in that, too, now,” Samael said, though the joke was half-hearted at best.

Natasha didn’t seem impressed. “We know you can be traumatized. And depression and anxiety happen as well, even if not the same way as with us.”

Samael let out a small breath. “What’s your point?”

“My point is that you’re missing something with Michael. I’ve heard nothing but very critical comments about him and what he did in the past, but it doesn’t add up with who I’m seeing right now.”

“We’ve thought the same, remember?” Raphael murmured, mainly for Samael’s ears.

Samael did remember. It was impossible to forget the conversation they had in the Forbidden Forest after Michael left them. It was impossible for Samael to forget the close bonds Michael had formed with his human friends in the world they left behind. Close bonds that he didn’t seem to have here and a level of relaxation Samael hadn’t seen him reach here either.

“Is he how you remember him being?” Samael asked Raphael. “You spent the most time with him after everything.”

Raphael tilted her head to the side, frowning slightly. “He is, and that’s what worries me. I can…feel not all is right.”

Samael stared blankly at her. “You can?”

“It’s not an exact science,” Raphael said irritably. “I certainly couldn’t feel it before if that’s what you’re insinuating, otherwise things might have turned out a great deal differently that time. No, I can feel it now, and I don’t know what it is. Only something isn’t quite right, and it’s Michael.”

“But you feel it now?”

Raphael gave nem an annoyed look. “As I said, yes. Something’s not right, and I can’t pin it down.”

If Samael asked Raphael one more time if she was sure about this, she was probably going to bite nir head off. Ne wisely opted for thoughtful silence, folding nir arms over nir chest and thinking.

“So let’s assume it’s an act,” Samael said eventually. “We’ve all put on an act at one point or another. Some of us longer than others. I don’t think confronting him about it will do any good.”

“Not if you do it.” Raphael’s voice was dry. “Some others may have more luck.”

Samael resisted the urge to poke back at Raphael for that dig. “Then why don’t you give it a try?”

“I have.” Raphael’s frame and Grace were both tense with frustration. “I have given it a try multiple times. He’s significantly more comfortable with me than you and even so he remains distant. Gabriel is trying as well, and while it’s doing something, it’s not doing what we need – what he needs.”

Samael could definitely say that the outings Gabriel was insisting on with Michael were doing…something. It was difficult to say if it was positive or negative, though. Michael remained as frustratingly difficult to read as ever. He did sometimes seem a little more relaxed after those outings, but he also sometimes seemed a little overwhelmed and would sequester himself for a while.

“If what you’re already doing isn’t working, then it may be time for something different,” Natasha said.

“I doubt you trying will be helpful,” Raphael said dryly.

Natasha shook her head. “He’s feeling guilty. I may not know him well, but I can read guilt on him. And when he’s interacting with you – with any of you – it’s worse. Is there anyone you know of who wouldn’t bring that out in him?”

Samael didn’t answer immediately, considering the question. Guilt was an emotion Samael was keenly familiar with. That all of them were familiar with at this point. Even so, understanding didn’t make dealing with it any easier.

Samael doubted that what had happened between ne and Gabriel would work here. There had been preexisting history then, Gabriel having raised Samael as an AI before ne reclaimed nir Grace. Now…there was nothing pleasant between them and Michael beyond what had happened before the Fall, and that was a time none of them could regain.

Even if any of the other angels would be willing to talk to Michael, Michael would be feeling far too guilty for it to work. To them, he had failed them all in one way or another. It was doubtlessly the same way Michael looked at it.

Huffing out an irritated breath, Samael turned nir attention to the Norse gods in their midst. Absolutely not Loki. Samael had heard about what he’d pulled. Not that it would do any good either. Loki would rather dig the knife in deeper or throw himself out a window than try to help Michael. Well, more the knife than the window, but the point stood.

Michael didn’t have any relationships with the gods here, but that also meant he wouldn’t be very likely to open up. (Very likely? Try not at all.)

“No one here,” Samael said slowly, sighing.

“His friends, perhaps?” Raphael suggested thoughtfully.

Samael didn’t respond immediately, turning over the suggestion thoughtfully.

“Friends?” Natasha sounded curious. “I could have sworn one of the things I heard about him was that Michael doesn’t have friends.”

“He didn’t,” Samael answered distractedly. “At least, he didn’t used to. He spent time among the humans—”

“Hogwarts,” James added, clearly remembering what the bots had excitedly shared.

“—and he did make friends there,” ne continued. “They seemed to get along well.”

They were protective of him, Raphael said where the others couldn’t hear.

Samael bit down nir first response, which was to say that they were also protective of Michael. Regardless of how true it was, it wasn’t the point. Michael clearly didn’t feel all that protected or comfortable.

“He’s going to try and kill me,” Samael said, sighing and rolling nir head back. “I’m going to die.”

Raphael didn’t seem impressed. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I’m not. I’m dead as soon as I get back. Dead.”

Natasha and James both looked a little confused now, looking between the two of them with furrowed eyebrows.

“Care to fill the rest of us in on the secret?” Natasha asked.

“I’m going to go back and get one of Michael’s friends.” Samael heaved another sigh, making sure Michael was still occupied by Gabriel. “He warned me off from doing anything with them, so this is going to be fun.”

“It doesn’t have to be you,” Raphael pointed out.

“If you’re gone, he’s going to wonder. You’re spending time together. He won’t notice me disappearing.”

“We’re not in each other’s pockets.” Raphael sounded unimpressed. “And he will notice if you’re suddenly gone, because you’re always lurking in the background.”

“I don’t lurk!”

“Forgive me. How else would you like me to call it? Hovering?”

“I don’t hover either!”

Raphael fixed nem with a supremely unimpressed expression. “Spying?”

“I don’t lurk, hover, or spy,” Samael protested, huffing. “I can’t help if he can sense me everywhere, can I?”

“You lurk,” Natasha said unsympathetically.

Samael rolled nir eyes to say exactly what ne thought of the matter. “Regardless of what I do, he’s not going to care if I’m gone.”

“We’ll both go,” Raphael said firmly in a tone that forbade further argument. “He won’t have any reason to suspect anything if we’re both gone. So if his friends refuse to come”—she said this in a tone that suggested she highly doubted this was a possibility—“he won’t know.”

“Fine.” Samael shrugged dismissively. “Shall we go, then?”

“Going now, then?” Natasha sounded slightly surprised.

“Talking about it anymore won’t solve anything,” Samael said. “He’s distracted for now – Gabriel’s very good at that – so we’ll do it now and see what comes of it.”

Natasha glanced back to James, who offered a small shrug. “It’s seemed to work so far,” he offered.

Natasha let out a small, unconvinced hum, looking back to Samael and Raphael. “Good luck.”

“We’ll be fine.” Samael flashed them a smile, then glanced to Raphael. Ne was met with a raised eyebrow, the equivalent of “well? Get on with it.”

That was what ne got for trying to be polite. Rolling nir eyes, Samael didn’t wait for Raphael to spread her wings, taking hold of her and slipping between the cracks of the universe with an ease that ne had never had before.

As Death, ne was literally everywhere at every time, even if ne didn’t physically present in all universes. It was possible, but it wasn’t what ne wanted to do. In any case, it meant that for nem, going from nir universe to that of where they’d found Michael was as easy as breathing.

The moment they arrived, Raphael shook nir hand off and stepped to the side, rolling her shoulders and her wings in one smooth motion. If she had feathers, they’d likely be ruffled.

Raphael looked askance to nem. “A little warning would be preferred next time.”

“It wasn’t that bad. It’s easier than flying, for sure.” Samael flashed her a smile, then turned nir attention to where ne had dropped them into Hogwarts.

Ne hadn’t really focused on when they’d be arriving, but it looked like daytime outside the tall windows lining the wall to their left. The portraits on the wall to their right were all conspicuously silent, staring at the two of them. Likely because they’d just popped into being in front of them, which wasn’t technically possible in Hogwarts.

It seemed like they were on the upper floors, the grounds of Hogwarts far below them. The grass looked faintly brown, and the skies were a dark, foreboding gray that suggested rain was incoming.

It looked wet and cold out there, which was the United Kingdom in a nutshell. Not that they were quite so united at the moment…

Beyond the thrum of magic embedded in the stones of the castle, the school was quiet. Aside from a few critters and Mrs. Norris a few floors below them, no one was wandering the hallways but rather clustered in several different rooms.

It seemed like they’d arrived in the middle of classes.

“We have some time,” Samael said after a moment, seeing a similar realization on Raphael’s face.

“You just want to explore.” The tone was vaguely accusatory yet also resigned.

Samael shrugged shamelessly. “We’re here, aren’t we? Have some fun, Raphael. It isn’t like anyone’s here to judge you.” Ne flashed her a grin, then slipped away before she could verbally respond.

There was a flare of frustration and something akin to embarrassment from Raphael, but she didn’t chase after Samael. It was a moment before Samael felt her leave the castle, flying away to another part of Earth. It felt like she’d gone to Japan.

Samael considered that with a slight twinge of guilt. With her usual temperament, it was all too easy to forget that Raphael had some attachments to Earth as well. It was similar with Michael, and it really shouldn’t be. They shouldn’t forget just because Michael and Raphael held themselves aloof in ways that Samael and Gabriel didn’t.

It was something to consider later. In a way that wouldn’t tick off Raphael.

Turning nir attention to the bookshelves in Hogwarts’s library, Samael kept well away from Madame Pince. She was occupied with something at her desk, so it was easy enough to wander through the back bookshelves and see what kind of books Hogwarts had to offer its students.

Being from Harry Potter’s point of view, the books had never had much information on what the library offered. There had been a few noteworthy times when he had turned to the library for help, but that had been infrequent and it wasn’t like it gave any readers a full picture of what the library was like.

It was at once more mundane and cooler than Samael had pictured. It was quite a bit like the set in the movies, but there were also bookshelves floating above the ones on the ground. There were books shelving themselves, flying around from where they’d been lying and slotting themselves back where they belonged.

One of them did so right in front of Samael. It was bound in a dark brown leather, the title along the spine in a fancily legible script that no computer word program would ever be able to properly replicate without human hands giving it a copy beforehand. From the title, which rather helpfully stated Defensive Shields, it was clearly a book on defensive magic.

Ne hadn’t yet decided which book to look at first, so this was as good as any.

It was satisfyingly heavy when ne pulled it down from the shelves. The spine creaked slightly as ne cracked it open, leaning back against the shelves as ne balanced the book in one hand and turned pages with the other. Although clearly published with a printing press, the writing was such that it still looked like it had been written by hand.

It seemed to be a stylistic choice with this one. Another book that Samael quickly snagged from the air had been published with a font more familiar. Ne let that one go after a moment, allowing it to return to where it had been flying to.

Defensive Shields started off simply enough with a brief introduction to magical shields and defensive practices in general. It was essentially like every textbook Samael had ever read before.

The chapter titles seemed a little more interesting, so Samael selected one at random and turned to that page. Ne was immediately met with two pages of text and very neat handwriting in the margins that was not part of the text. For an instant, Samael thought that the authors had gone for the opportunity to comment on the formal academic text in a more casual manner that would relate to young students, but then ne realized that the tone of this writing was too different and the ink too fresh to have been published with the book.

No, it seemed that some student had decided to write all over this book with small corrections, addendums, and lengthier explanations. It was more corrections than agreements. It was all over the book. There were a few chapters where entire passages had been scribbled through because the student clearly disagreed with what had been written there.

Samael squinted at the text. A few seconds later, ne was able to piece together what had been written there before and compare it to what the student had written in the margins.

It was interesting, but Samael didn’t know enough of the magic of this world to be able to say whether the student was right or wrong.

Shelving the book, Samael selected another at random. This one had the exact same handwriting in it and was on literally every page but the introductory ones, either because the introductory chapter was too boring to be read through or because the student had nothing to say about – Samael skimmed through the content – the author’s own autobiography. Well, that was fair.

Over the next half hour, Samael quickly found out that no matter what book ne picked out or what section of the library ne went into, every book had this particular handwriting in it. The only section that ended up being free of corrections was the Divination section. Samael took a few moments to parse these books before grudgingly admitting that they were a little on the dry side and also terribly inaccurate before dumping them and wandering into the history section.

Surely no single student had gone through the entire library? Wouldn’t Harry Potter – even as oblivious as he infamously was – have noticed handwriting in the library books? He’d commented on Snape’s old book often enough that it was clear it wasn’t something he was used to. And it wasn’t like the boy had steered clear of the library altogether and gotten by on Hermione’s brains alone; he’d done his homework and checked books out.

By this point some other students were also trickling into the library. Samael didn’t steer clear of them the way ne had Pince, so there were a few startled and curious glances thrown nir way. They evidently recognized nem from last time, but no one approached.

It wasn’t too likely this student had scribbled over the history books. Theoretical and practical books were one thing. Anyone could argue about those. But history? Unless one was a historian or had lived through those times, it wasn’t like they’d have corrections to suggest.

Samael was interested in what these history books would be like. Ne was familiar with the history of nir Earth – the one which had been at the end of its life – but this was an entirely different one. Somewhat the same yet not. The differences would play out in its history with an entirely different magical society underneath the surface of the history ne was familiar with.

The first book ne selected was that of the goblins. Ne certainly heard enough of goblins from whatever Binns had been droning on about in the books…

Ne opened it to a random page, only to be met with two full pages that had been entirely scribbled out and the elegant handwriting crammed into the margins and almost swimming off the pages. Ne squinted down at the writing, then at the text to see what ne could put together of it.

It was another few seconds before ne managed to get a comprehensive picture of what had been defaced so that no human could make it out. As an AI/archangel, it wasn’t difficult at all. It was just…ridiculous.

The text was narrating the reasons for the start of one of the goblin wars, putting all the blame on the goblins. It was something the student seemed to take great offense to since they had disagreed with absolutely every point on the page and said it was the wizards who had instigated the aggression, the goblins who had countered, and then it had all blown up in everyone’s faces. Samael was paraphrasing but that was the gist of it.

And so it carried on for the remainder of the text.

The next few history books pulled off the shelves had suffered similar fates.

The problem was… Samael could tell that the student was right. The books had it wrong or at least had obscured what had actually happened or twisted it around entirely. It wasn’t unusual when it came to history. Even nir own Earth had gotten the distant and not-so-distant past wrong frequently; history was written by the victors, and too often the losing side had no way of narrating what their side had been like.

The issue was that there was no way the student could possibly know all those finer details that they did. They were details that Samael could easily see, but that was only because ne could look back in time and confirm for nemself.

So perhaps this student wasn’t a student at all but rather a very old wizard/witch with too much time on their hands. Or maybe a ghost using a student to dictate corrections into the books, but then the handwriting would be significantly worse since no student had handwriting this neat.

Samael studied the handwriting again, trying to parse what ne could of the possible character of the writer. It was very neat and elegant and very…fancy…? Only it was still perfectly legible. It was the kind of handwriting that would make any teacher weep to read because of how pretty it was.

…No, ne wasn’t getting anything from scrutinizing the handwriting. That science had been fake, anyway.

Sighing, Samael shelved that book and pulled another out. Sure enough, this one also had the writing all over it.

Not a student and not a ghost… If this hadn’t been in the books, and Samael knew it wasn’t, ne had to consider what else had changed. There was only one thing that had to the point where something like this would happen, but it was so ridiculous that Samael felt like smacking nemself.

Really? Michael? Defacing books like this? It was…banal. Ridiculous. He would never.

Scoffing, Samael discarded the most recent book and wandered into the Restricted Section. The library had filled up a little more by this point, though still not by much. Ne was getting a few more looks of interest and wariness but no one approached, which suited nem fine.

A fizzle of magic flickered over nir skin as ne slipped past the wooden barrier separating the Restricted Section from the rest of the library. Ne flicked it aside and continued on, stepping right into one aisle and pulling out one book that felt incredibly meek.

…They all felt a little chastised in this section, like someone had come and ripped them a new one.

Samael eyed the book interestedly, then opened it.

…At this point ne shouldn’t even be surprised to see that elegant handwriting winking up at nem. The book felt sulky as Samael perused its pages, a slight bit of shame wafting off it, which was very weird to feel from a book because they were usually entirely inanimate objects unless Gabriel or Loki were feeling particularly funny that day.

The contents were also rather dire and horrific, which shouldn’t surprise Samael either at this point. Ne shelved that book, then went to find an aisle where the books hadn’t been terrified into submission.

Samael had to go a little past the first few sections before ne was able to find a row that had not met the hands of this erstwhile student who was absolutely not Michael.

These books had very clearly not been touched or criticized, so Samael had the pleasure of taking one book off its shelf and immediately getting nir fingers chomped on when ne tried opening it.

“That’s just rude,” ne told it. “Who told you you could do that?”

The book didn’t respond beyond mulishly trying to gnaw Samael’s fingers off. It wasn’t doing a very good job, but Samael would give it an A for effort considering that anyone else would be getting a lot of paper cuts.

Samael smacked it off and to the floor, then picked it up again and shook it before opening it once more. “Do it again and I’ll smooth down your pages so you’re made of glass.”

The book was gratifyingly still at this threat, so Samael was able to leaf through it unharmed. It was about teeth. More particularly, what spells and potions one could use teeth for and the varying results. Diagrams were provided; they were very anatomically and graphically correct aside from a few ridiculous mistakes that had Samael realizing exactly why the student had wanted to deface every other book in this library.

Samael instantly put the book away, then selected another that decided screaming in nir face was a good strategy.

Perhaps it might have been, but Samael just silenced it and continued turning the pages while it screamed voicelessly. This one was about the voice; Samael half-expected to find a diagram of a mermaid and was disappointed when nothing was there.

The next book opted for trying to set Samael’s hands on fire. Samael set it on fire instead, then regenerated it and had it contemplate its life choices on its shelf. No other book in the aisle protested as Samael worked nir way through them.

…The student was absolutely not Michael. There were plenty of reasons someone would want to write a lot of corrections all over the books in this library.

It made no sense for it to be Michael. Absolutely none.

Samael was still telling nemself this as ne picked out another book on the topmost shelf, climbing up onto the shelves to get to it. It was made out of human skin, which meant it was far too interesting to ignore.

Ne had just eased it off the shelf, ignoring the scent of blood and rotting meat wafting off it, when a throat was very pointedly cleared at nir feet.

Book in hand and still holding onto the very top shelf, Samael turned to the side and looked down to see none other than Madame Pince glowering up at nem.

Samael didn’t move, balancing nir weight on one foot and holding onto the shelf with nir free hand. “Hi!” Ne grinned cheerfully down at her.

Pince glared up at nem frostily, not at all amused. “Get down.”

Samael sighed, swinging the book back and then forward, briefly adjusting the grip ne had on the shelf before ne let go and landed lightly on the floor. Pince was still frostily glaring at nem, though now it was down her nose because ne was shorter.

“Well, I’m down,” Samael said cheerfully, tucking both hands and the book behind nir back. “Did you need something, Madame Pince?”

“I was told,” Pince said in a tone that could have frozen lava, “that you and your…companions had left. For good.”

Samael blinked at her, tilting nir head to the side. “We did leave. Never said it would be for good.”

“Apparently.” Pince glowered at nem a moment longer, then reached out with a spindly hand to grab hold of Samael’s upper arm and start pulling nem along.

She was only able to do it because Samael allowed it, and even then Samael didn’t let her pull them along as quickly as she would have liked. Ne slowed the pace, so that Pince was forced to the slow, relaxed speed ne set.

They soon ended up outside of the Restricted Section, upon which Pince turned to Samael and held out a demanding hand. There was a bit of an audience at this point, the other students in the library having casually started lingering in the area in hopes of a scene. “The book.”

Samael gave her an innocent look, then showed her both hands, which were empty. “What book?”

Pince looked fit to have a stroke. “Where did you put it?”

“Oh, you know, somewhere,” Samael said airily. “I’m sure it’ll turn up at some point.”

Pince no longer looked like she was at imminent risk for a stroke. It now looked like she was about to burst into flames. “The book! You will hand it over! Now!”

“Bit difficult to do that when I don’t have it in my hands.” Samael waved nir empty hands around again briefly, then tucked them back behind nir back. Ne took a step back, dipping into a slightly mocking bow as ne did. “It’ll turn up sometime, Madame Pince. Have a nice cup of tea in the meantime, lest you hurt yourself.”

Ne flashed an apoplectic Pince a smile, then made a graceful exit before Pince could do anything like throttle nem. It looked a little like she was on the verge of doing so.

The gawking students made space for nem, whispering and nudging each other in very meaningful ways. Samael didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but it was very difficult to miss what they were saying when they were bad at whispering.

“Was that a threat?”

“Didn’t seem like a threat, did it?”

“Well, you know how he was when he got upset—”

“But that’s just a rumor—”

“No, you saw what happened to Parkinson!”

Samael’s interest was piqued at these so-called rumors courtesy of Hogwarts’s infamous grapevine, but before ne could go and ask about it, someone drew nir attention with a polite tap on nir arm. Turning, ne was met with the sight of one Hannah Abbott, who had fixed nem with a polite expression that somehow still managed to convey a very strong sense of judgment. It reeked of Michael.

“Hannah!” Samael beamed at her, reaching out to Raphael as well, though ne needn’t have since Raphael was already on the way.

Hannah’s expression shifted a little to that of bemusement. The younger student at Hannah’s elbow looked up at her in concern before looking back to Samael.

“Auror Sam,” Hannah said, clearly mindful of their earlier aliases, “how nice to see you again. I don’t believe we expected you.”

Samael waved off the silent question, flashing her a smile far kinder than the one ne had given Pince earlier. “It wasn’t planned at all, but we simply couldn’t resist another visit.”

Hannah blinked, looking startled and surprised and also hopeful. “We?”

Samael slung an arm around her shoulders, tugging her along before she could resist and before Pince could finish mustering up the breath to start shouting Samael out the library.

The younger student who had apparently brought Hannah to the library tagged along, giving both of them a side-eye, though it was more focused on Samael.

“Alys, it’s okay,” Hannah told her. “I’ll handle it from here.”

“If you’re sure,” Alys said doubtfully, still eyeing Samael with an extreme air of skepticism.

“I am. Thank you.” Hannah smiled at her, then started taking the lead in pulling Samael away from the library and to somewhere a little more private.

Samael let her, intrigued and curious. The moment they were out of eyesight of other students, Raphael flicked into the space next to nem.

Hannah barely startled, jolting only a little at the sudden appearance. It seemed that Michael had gotten her desensitized to angels popping out of nowhere, which was a shame. Startling humans was always funny.

“So that’s what you meant by ‘we,’” Hannah said after a moment, looking away from Raphael. “Or – is Michael—”

“Not here,” Samael said, slightly apologetic. Ne let go of Hannah, stepping slightly to the side. “But! That is why we’re here.”

Hannah looked to nem, expression worried. “Michael? Is he okay? What happened? He’s not hurt, is he?” She paused. “You didn’t hurt him, did you?” she demanded.

Samael managed a small laugh, shaking nir head and smiling at her despite the pang of hurt at the insinuation. “He’s fine, Hannah. I wouldn’t hurt him. That time is past.”

Hannah frowned, glancing between Samael and Raphael. She seemed doubtful of this. “You’re Lucifer.”

“I was.” Samael’s tone was firm. When Hannah turned a little ashen, eyes flicking between the two of them, Samael gentled it as ne continued speaking, repeating nir earlier words. “That time is past. I’m not here to hurt you. Besides,” ne added lightly, “I have a chaperone.”

Hannah’s attention flicked to Raphael. “Raphael?”

Raphael hummed in confirmation, inclining her head slightly.

“Why are you two here?” Hannah asked, coming to a stop by a suit of armor and a painting of a snoring man holding a half-eaten apple. She folded her arms over her chest. “There’s nothing we can do for you.”

“That’s not entirely true.” Samael tilted nir head to the side, shrugging lightly. “You’re Michael’s friend, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” Hannah answered slowly, “I am.”

Samael considered her for a moment, then glanced askance to Raphael. Raphael gazed back impassively, raising a single eyebrow when Samael met her eyes.

Go on, Raphael said dryly. I’m just chaperoning.

Huffing, Samael turned nir attention back to Hannah, sobering. “You’re his friend,” ne said simply. “He could use one of those.”

Hannah’s expression shifted back to that of worry. ���He could? Why?”

“Family isn’t everything,” Samael said. “And for us…there’s too much bad blood. We’re trying but…” Ne shrugged. “I think having a friend that he knows is only on his side will be good for him.”

We, Raphael said pointedly.

“We think that,” Samael amended, glancing to Raphael and then back to Hannah. Ne raised nir eyebrows, extending a hand in Hannah’s direction. “Well?” Ne wiggled nir fingers. “Free ride to another universe. No strings attached.”

Hannah stared at the hand, not reaching out for it.

“What?” Samael was exasperated, and maybe also just a bit hurt. “I’m not going to bite you. As I said, we’re being chaperoned.”

Hannah’s hands fisted in her robes, her eyes drifting back to Samael’s face. “Is it just me?”

Samael tilted nir head at her. “Sorry?”

“The offer – is it just for me?” Hannah asked. “Or – or can the others come with?”

“If they want,” Samael said slowly.

“How many?” Hannah was almost vibrating with energy.

Samael shrugged. “However many want to come.”

“Do we have to go now?” Hannah looked down the hall and back to Samael. It was clear that she wanted to run but was waiting for nir answer. “Or can you wait?”

“We can wait.” Samael let nir hand drop, tucking it into nir pocket. “Take your time.”

Hannah nodded, taking several steps to the side and then stopping abruptly. “Are you – where are you going to be?”

“Around.” Samael made a vague gesture with one hand. “You know how to reach us, I think.”

“Praying. Yes. I’ll – we’ll do that. I’ll be back. Don’t go.” Hannah was gone an instant later, running down the hall as fast as she could go.

Samael stared after her, then looked to Raphael. “Well.”

“Well,” Raphael echoed, tilting her head curiously. “It seems that we’ll have company.”

Samael dipped nir chin in a small nod, turning to look at the portrait. The apple had fallen to the painted floor a minute and five seconds ago and the man had bolted to another painting point two seconds before his snack had hit the floor.         Ne wasn’t sure where he’d gone; the portraits didn’t have any life energy to them, just magic.

With a sigh, ne looked back in the direction Hannah had run off in. Ne shouldn’t be so surprised that it seemed like all of Michael’s friends wanted to come. Yet…ne was. Michael was…Michael.

Tilting nir head back, Samael ran a hand over nir face and through nir hair, ruffling it briefly before flattening it again and turning to Raphael. “She’s probably going to be a while, so I’m going to poke around a little more.”

Raphael gave nem a sardonic look. “Oh, will you?”

“Yes.” Samael refused to rise to the bait. After a moment, ne did stick nir tongue out at her before flying back to the library and randomly grabbing a bunch of books. It wasn’t stealing if ne planned on returning them later.

There was what felt like an exasperated sigh from Raphael, but she didn’t prod at Samael. She didn’t leave either beyond flying to outside the castle, clearly intending on enjoying the weather.

Five minutes later, Samael was in one of the courtyards and running a finger over the wings of a gargoyle. Ne looked up to the cloudy, overcast sky, and then back to the gargoyle that was ignoring nem. The weather wasn’t even that nice, but it was Earth weather, so ne could see Raphael’s point.

Every planet’s atmosphere was different, and no matter how many planets Samael had been to, none had been like Earth. Being here was incredibly nostalgic, down to the smell of rain hanging in the air and the slight nip to Samael’s skin.

The cold didn’t bother nem as it did Gabriel. And even then, it wasn’t like this particular cold would bother Gabriel either, being entirely physical.

Humming under nir breath, Samael left the gargoyle alone, sitting down on a bench situated in front of the fountain that was the centerpiece of this courtyard. Ne stretched nir legs out, taking out one of the books ne had appropriated from the library and flipping to the index.

This one was one of the higher level Charms books ne had been able to locate and hadn’t looked at previously. It was also filled with the mysterious student’s handwriting, and at this point Samael shouldn’t even be surprised.

Rather than skimming through it, Samael took nir time to read through the introductory chapter and then through the rest. The student’s comments were insightful and sometimes contradicting what the actual text stated; other times it simplified concepts that seemed needlessly complicated.

It was ten minutes into this when someone said, “You’re back, are you?”

Blinking, Samael looked up to see one Harry Potter in the flesh, his two friends right at his shoulders. There was a thrill of excitement at the fact that they were actually real and here before Samael quelled it and closed the book, leaning back slightly. “I’m certainly somewhere.”

Harry made a face, seeming reluctantly amused despite himself. “What are you doing here? I thought you’d left along with Michael.”

“We did,” Samael said, shrugging. “This is just a quick visit. You won’t even have time to notice we’re here.”

“Is Michael here, too, then?” Hermione asked.

“Oh no. Just us.” Samael shook nir head, flattening nir hands briefly over the front of the book and folding it back into the space with the other books ne had taken.

Hermione looked a little scandalized, and Ron elbowed her in the side. “You’re taking that with you?” she blurted out.

“I’ll give it back,” Samael drawled. “It’s a library, isn’t it? Borrowing is perfectly fine.”

“Are you going to write all over it, too?” Hermione demanded, and Ron slapped a hand against his face, swearing under his breath.

Samael blinked. “Too?”

“Don’t give me that innocent face.” Hermione rolled her eyes. “I’ll grant that you’re a sight better at it than your so-called brother is, but he is absolutely shameless.”

Samael blinked again, staring at her. Michael? Shameless? Since when?

“Hermione,” Ron muttered, sounding pained, “please.”

“Don’t ‘Hermione’ me, Ron.” Hermione didn’t even look at him, eyes on Samael. “You know I’m right!”

“You are right about something,” Samael said. “I am absolutely shameless. But, please, do tell me more about my brother’s lack of shame. I’m always down for more dirt.”

Instead of making Hermione spill the beans, this only seemed to make her stare at nem. Eventually, she said, “Are you sure you’re related to him?”

“Hermione!” Ron hissed. “You can’t just ask someone if they’re related!”

“It’s all so hard to believe,” Hermione said, huffing. “Angels and demons and whatever else is going to pop out of the woodworks. Not that we’ve even met any demons. And I’m still not convinced that you lot are just having us on and it’s a very elaborate hoax.”

“This is why it’s fun being around you humans,” Samael said cheerfully. “You never know if you’re going to be met with a skeptic or a believer. Even the religious tend towards skepticism, especially nowadays.”

There was a nod of agreement from Harry, though he was still eyeing Samael warily.

Ron poked at Hermione’s shoulder. “I don’t hear you being all skeptic about Percy being related to Fred and George. Siblings can be different.”

Hermione pulled a face, sighing. “That’s true enough, I suppose. But still.” She gave Samael a piercing look. “You better not go writing in the books, too. Some people need to read them! And we can’t do that if everything is scratched out because it’s supposedly ‘incorrect.’”

…Too?

“It probably is incorrect,” Samael said helpfully, almost buzzing with the notion that she had said “too.” “Most things humans write usually is. Except fiction. Your fiction is really imaginative. Top notch. Can’t do better than that.”

Ne was getting incredulous looks at that, all of them looking at nem like ne was an alien. Which, fair enough. Samael was definitely the alien here (in more ways than one, ha).

“Definitely siblings,” Ron said, nudging Hermione. “He told you the same thing, didn’t he?”

Hermione huffed, rolling her eyes. “Your brother said the same. That everything is inaccurate and so obviously we should be grateful to have his ‘corrected’ information.”

“That sounds like him.” Samael paused, then pulled out on the books ne had procured from the library. “Are you telling me he’s systematically gone through practically every book in your library and added his own edits?”

“The only books he hasn’t touched are Divination, and even I don’t read those.”

There was something there, but Samael wasn’t going to touch that at the moment. No, best focus on the fact that Michael had written all over these books. Michael.

“You dropped the class,” Harry reminded Hermione.

“Because it was a waste of my time.”

“You had a time turner,” Harry said. “What time was wasted?”

“My own.” Hermione made a face, clearly remembering when she had sat through the Divination classes Samael had read about from Harry’s point of view.

Samael flipped through the book with a keener eye now that ne was aware of the writer’s identity. Ne had never seen Michael’s physical handwriting before, but this simple and elegant style definitely did suit him. The tone was all him: dry, occasionally biting, and to the point.

It was like getting lectured by Michael via a book, though he’d certainly never shared any of this kind of information with Samael before.

At one point Samael would have insisted that Michael was too much of a goody two-shoes to even consider doing something like writing in a book, but apparently that was dead wrong since the evidence was staring at nem in the face. Samael would also have insisted that Michael wouldn’t be caught dead reading human books, but apparently that was also wrong since Michael had gone through most of Hogwarts’s library.

…Was he doing the same thing to the books back in Asgard? Loki was going to have his head. Or attempt it.

Samael tried to recall if Loki had been more pissed off than usual at Michael, but nothing stuck out at nem. So either Michael hadn’t done anything or Loki hadn’t discovered anything.

“You didn’t know, did you?” Hermione asked as Samael continued flipping through the pages.

Samael didn’t respond immediately, coming to the end of the book and closing it before looking up to the three. Ne gave them a small smile. “It’s been a very long time since I’ve actually talked with Michael. I don’t know half of what he’s gotten up to while he’s been here, and he knows even less than half of what I’ve gotten up to.”

Ron’s expression was sympathetic yet intrigued. Harry looked like he was trying to compute just what Samael meant by “a long time.” It wasn’t likely he’d get to the right answer.

“Is he coming back?” Hermione sounded uncertain. “Is that why you’re here?”

Shrugging, Samael dropped the book back in its pocket, settling nir hands back on the bench. “I don’t know. Raphael and I are just here to pick up some friends; we’ll be out of your hair soon enough.”

“Friends?” Hermione scrunched her eyebrows together. “You don’t mean – are you taking Michael’s friends?”

“However many want to come.” Samael had a guess it was going to be all of them.

Ron looked concerned. “How long do you expect to be gone? If Ginny’s gone too long, Mum’s going to have her head. And mine. Because obviously I should have stopped her…”

Samael shrugged again. “I really can’t say. Time flows a little differently between here and there.”

“Differently?” Hermione sounded intrigued. “How different? Can it be quantified?”

“Probably, but it gets a little dicey when we’re involved.” Samael smiled at the face Hermione made at the non-answer. “Time doesn’t run the same way for us.”

“That’s not an answer at all,” Hermione complained.

“Get used to disappointment.” Hermione didn’t seem to get the reference, which was a damn shame. She was a Muggle-born; surely her parents had watched that particular movie? Surely Hermione, the infamous bookworm, had read the book?

“Seriously, how long is she going to be gone?” Ron asked. “You haven’t met my mum, but she’s dead serious about Ginny’s safety.”

“I really don’t know.” Samael offered yet another shrug. “We’ll try to do our best to make sure she gets back relatively soon.”

Ron didn’t look very happy with this answer, frowning and folding his arms over his chest. At least he didn’t ask for a guarantee that Samael couldn’t give.

“You can’t just take them and leave,” Hermione objected. “There are going to be questions.”

This wasn’t something Samael had ever had to deal with before. Usually they just went about their business and whatever happened would happen. It wasn’t like anything could really affect them…

“I suppose it’s a good thing you’re here, isn’t it? So you can answer those questions.”

“How? Are we just supposed to say they’ve gone off to another dimension to have a cup of tea?”

Samael smiled, amused despite Hermione’s obvious indignation. “If you think that’ll work.”

“Maybe we can tell Dumbledore,” Ron offered. “He knows about Michael.”

Hermione considered that, expression thoughtful. “Well…perhaps.”

“Oi, Potter! What are you doing here?” It was a voice that was all too familiar to Samael, even though ne only heard it a few times in real life. And, lo and behold, Draco Malfoy walked up to them, dropping a bag right by the bench Samael was sitting on. He was glowering at Harry.

“It’s a free country, isn’t it?” Harry retorted. “I can spend time where I like.” He frowned at Malfoy’s bag. “Are you going somewhere?”

Malfoy scoffed, rolling his eyes. “I don’t see how it’s any of your business, but if you must know, it’s elsewhere.”  

Harry looked unimpressed. “Elsewhere?”

“Elsewhere.”

“Great,” Harry said, “I’m going to go elsewhere, too. I don’t even need a bag for it.” He took a step to the side, then spread his arms pointedly.

“You’re a bloody riot,” Malfoy said flatly.

“Thank you.”

Samael snorted, laughed, and then quickly brought a hand up to nir mouth when everyone stared at nem. Ne didn’t even attempt to hide nir obvious amusement, though ne coughed. “Don’t mind me. Continue.”

Malfoy did not continue, looking a little discomfited. It seemed like he didn’t know what to make of Samael. He folded his arms over his chest, shifting his weight from leg to leg.

On the other hand, Harry looked both entertained and wary, like he wasn’t entirely sure what to do in this situation but he was going to stick it out. He was remarkably easy to read, unlike Malfoy, who was a blank wall but for his bright soul. It had to be the Occlumency, since none of the others were that blank.

The odd atmosphere was dispersed by a cheerful “Hello, everyone,” and Luna Lovegood wiggling her hand through Malfoy’s folded arms to link their arms together.

It was bizarre enough that Samael was left blinking. Things had changed that much, had they?

Malfoy relaxed a little, not pulling away from Luna. “Luna. Are the others coming?”

“They’re on the way,” Luna answered. “I think Ginny bullied her way into the Hufflepuff Common Room and is supervising packing.”

Malfoy seemed to be considering that.  “That does not surprise me.”

“You’re all going, then?” Hermione asked.

Luna glanced at her, giving her a bright smile. “Of course.” She turned to Samael now, nodding at nem. “Hello, Samael. It’s nice to see you again. How have you been?”

Samael smiled at her, returning the nod. “Eh, can’t complain.”

“There’s always something you can complain about,” Luna said entirely seriously.

“That’s true, but then I’d get into all the minutiae of things that really don’t matter.” Like the state of the Internet at the moment. Samael hadn’t even realized how used ne had gotten to something that was fast and always accessible until ne was back in the 1990s (the fact that ne had never actually lived through the 1990s wasn’t the point).

Malfoy looked reluctantly amused for an instant before it was wiped off his face.

“Do you even have things to complain about?” Ron asked. “Is that…allowed?”

Samael shot him an amused look. “What do you think?”

“I…don’t know what I think. I didn’t think angels existed before but then Michael happened.”

“He does that,” Samael said, amused because it was true on multiple levels.

“He does a lot of things,” Luna agreed. Her expression sobered a moment later. “How is he?”

Samael weighed nir answer carefully before responding, though none of them would notice a pause. “He’ll be happy to see you, especially since this is a surprise.”

Luna and Malfoy both had expressions on their faces that said they knew Samael wasn’t saying everything.

It was the space of a breath before Raphael stepped into the physical realm directly behind Samael, face upturned towards the cloudy sky. She didn’t respond to the surprised breaths of the others, though a moment later her attention drifted to where Michael’s other friends were beginning to approach them, each of them carrying a bag.

They were radiating a nervous sort of excitement, even as practically all of them were eyeing Samael warily. Luna was the only one who seemed absolutely comfortable with the entire situation, which tracked with what Samael knew of her character in the books.

Ginny seemed slightly surprised to see Ron there. “Oh, Ron… What are you doing here?”

Ron didn’t answer the question, instead saying, “You realize Mum’s going to have my head for letting you disappear, right?”

Ginny seemed entirely unconcerned about this. “You’ll live.”

Ron looked scandalized. “I’ll live?! You could at least act a little concerned that Mum’s going to ream me out over you going off elsewhere!”

“Mum’s Mum.” Ginny shrugged. “Doesn’t mean I’ll not do it.”

Ron’s expression was despairing. “Nice to know my little sister doesn’t care whether or not I get murdered by our own mother.”

Ginny shrugged again, then turned to Samael and Raphael. “So? Hannah said you’re our rides?”

“I thought you weren’t supposed to be around us,” Neville said dubiously to Samael.

“I’m being chaperoned,” Samael said cheerfully, pointing to Raphael, who did not roll her eyes but it was obviously a close call. “It’s all good.”

Neville looked extremely skeptical of this claim, which was just hurtful.

“Why would you need to be chaperoned?” Hermione asked, confused. “And why wouldn’t you be allowed around them? Do you just let your…brother tell you what to do?”

Samael shrugged, shifting to stand. “Sometimes. When he has a point.”

There was a snort from Ron, who clearly understood where Samael was coming from with that.

“So,” Samael continued cheerfully, looking between each of Michael’s friends, “everyone ready to go?”

“Not quite yet,” Susan said, eyes sharp and wary. “Hannah said you’re here for us, but she didn’t say why. Why you and not Michael?”

“I said it was a surprise.” Samael tilted nir head. “Don’t you want to surprise him?”

“You’re Lucifer,” Susan said bluntly, not budging. “I don’t care whether or not you’re ‘chaperoned,’ we don’t know you, and Michael told us to be careful around you.”

Samael wasn’t going to lie. That stung. It wasn’t a surprise,  but it still hurt to hear that. 

Harry’s head whipped around to Samael, his eyes wide. “You’re Lucifer?” he blurted out, sounding surprised.

Samael didn’t verbally respond, raising nir eyebrows at him. There wasn’t any comprehension on Ron’s face, but Hermione’s face was startled.

“The Devil?” Harry sounded incredulous, like if he had to picture the Devil it wasn’t who he was seeing right now.

Raphael was quiet, but she didn’t need to speak to show her support, wings brushing against Samael’s and her Grace a solid warmth against nir own.

“Yes,” Samael said eventually, when no one else spoke, “that’s me.” Ne gave a small smile, one that was probably a little off-putting from the way Harry, Ron, and Hermione all took a shuffling step backwards. “Though these days, I go by Samael.”

“But you’re still. Why are you here?” Harry looked incredibly wary.  “And not…?” He trailed off, clearly unsure of how to verbally say “destroying the world,” which was what was very loudly going through his head.

“I happen to like the world,” Samael said offhandedly, not looking to anyone but instead at a gargoyle higher up on Hogwarts’s walls. “Besides…” Ne looked back to them, the corner of nir mouth ticking up. “Lucifer’s me, but I’m not Lucifer.”

There was visible confusion on everyone’s faces at this.

“How’s that possible?” Hermione demanded. “Either you’re Lucifer, or you’re not Lucifer!”

“Yes,” Samael agreed. “As I said, Lucifer was me, but I’m not Lucifer. Not anymore.”

Susan frowned, clearly unhappy with that answer. “Are all of you this confusing?” she finally asked. “Speaking in riddles and confusing half-statements that only barely make sense… I’d ask if Michael learned it from you, but clearly you learned it from him.”

Samael snorted, then laughed. “It is part of the job description.”

“Being confusing?”

“Mysterious.” Samael flashed a grin at her.

“Oh, they’re definitely related,” Hermione muttered. “No one else is so infuriating.”

There was a flare of amusement from Raphael at this comment. “If you want bluntness, you’re better off speaking to Gabriel. He can be mysterious in his own way, but he’s more likely to take pity on you.”

“You mean more likely to speak in riddles,” Samael pointed out. “Or give puzzles. He loves his puzzles.”

“As I said, ‘mysterious in his own way.’”

Susan made an impatient noise, opening her mouth, but whatever else she might have said was cut off by Hannah, who tugged at her arm. “It doesn’t matter, Susan. They’re here now, aren’t they? We can get answers later.” Unspoken was the fear that if they pushed too hard, this chance would disappear.

“Or they’ll be all mysterious,” Justin said. “Because that’s how they work… How many times has Michael given us that little ‘hm’ and that look that said ‘figure it out yourself’? Or just not answered at all and done his own little thing while the rest of us are left scratching our heads?”

Samael could picture that exact expression. Judging from Raphael’s face, so could she.

Malfoy was beginning to look impatient, even if he had kept his mouth shut so far. “Are we leaving or not? If the rest of you would rather waste time gossiping, do it on your own time.”

“This is our time,” Ernie said slowly, glancing to Samael and Raphael as if checking their reactions to Malfoy’s demand.

Samael tilted nir head, watching them all. Some of the wariness had faded, though it was still lingering at the edges.

“We’re in no rush,” Raphael said idly in that particular tone that usually had people doing a double take. “Do take your time.”

Samael was relatively sure ne could get them back before Gabriel or Michael noticed their absence. …Or just Michael. Ne wasn’t even entirely sure what Gabriel was aware of at this point.

“We’re ready to go,” Luna said politely, meeting Samael’s eyes. “I think it’s been long enough, don’t you?”

Malfoy leaned down to pick up his bag, slinging it over his shoulder, then just stood there with an expectant expression.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione exchanged glances, then took a few steps back like they thought they would also be accidentally whisked away if they stood too close. As if. This wasn’t a teleportation circle drawn by a witch.

Samael rolled nir shoulders, prodding at the space between the dimensions briefly. Ne glanced at Raphael, who nodded in confirmation.

“Mind your step,” Samael said to no one in particular. “Don’t want to get lost in the void between dimensions, do we?”

There was no time for anyone to respond, as Samael swept them all up, smoothly sliding from one dimension to the next with an ease ne never had before. And with absolutely no chance for anyone to get lost in the void between dimensions.

Still, it was worth it for the looks on their faces.

#bonus scene #first born #the last archangel #my writing #seventh year: reconciliations

[mindkiler]

― ❛ wc ❜ ↬ this may be the night that my dreams might let me know all the stars are closer !

alternative : tag !

( f / m / nb ) : ؂ press #001 to sing : ❛ fortnight ❜❝ all of this to say : i hope you’re okay but you’re the reason and no one here’s to blame, but what about your quiet treason ? ❞

quando bee chegou ao acampamento era apenas uma pré-adolescente com uma bagagem de traumas não resolvidos & muita raiva, lynx ajudou ela a canalizar toda essa fúria nos treinos, fazendo da garota uma exímia lutadora que sabia segurar seu chão com pessoas ainda mais fortes. bee idolatrava lynx, mas quando ouviu que falavam por suas costas que era apenas mais uma menina patética que os seguia, a adoração tornou-se em ainda mais ira. porém, teria mesmo lynx a traído silenciosamente desta forma ? ( @lynksu )

( f / m / nb ) : ؂ press #002 to sing : ❛ the tortured poets department ❜❝ you’re in self-sabotage mode, throwing spikes down on the road but i’ve seen this episode and still love the show. ❞

bee e pietra são melhores amigas, sempre foi & sempre vai ser assim. opostos, raio de sol para sua poeta torturada, pietra segura a mão de bee nos piores momentos, cuida dela quando os calafrios vem e o mundo está alto demais. bee tenta ao seu máximo retribuir mesmo quando está em modo de auto sabotagem, mas não tem nada que faça pietra partir. ( @pips-plants )

( m ) : ؂ press #003 to sing : ❛ my boy only breaks his favorite toys ❜❝ here we go again. the voices in his head called the rain to end our days of wild. the sickest army doll, purchased at the mall. rivulets descend my plastic smile. ❞

bee e brook eram amigos, e visitavam um ao outro ocasionalmente quando estavam longe do acampamento - no entanto, em uma destas visitas, brook viu um lado de bee que jamais conheceu. (tw: menção ao uso de drogas e consumo de álcool ) não a artista ou a guerreira, nem mesmo a reclusa que podia ser ; e sim, a pessoa doente que escolhia o esquecimento invés das vozes na sua cabeça. pílulas e bebida na mesa, um sorriso plástico no rosto da amiga adorada fez com que lhe virasse as costas - não conhecia aquela pessoa, mesmo que ela precisasse de si. bee nunca superou a vergonha, mas teria brook se arrependido de quebrar seu brinquedo favorito ? ( @mcdameb )

( f / nb ) : ؂ press #004 to sing : ❛ florida !!! ❜❝ i need to forget, so take me to florida - i’ve got some regrets, i’ll bury them in florida. tell me i’m despicable, say it’s unforgivable. at least the dolls are beautiful, fuck me up, florida. ❞

donna era a pessoa de bee, estivessem se metendo em confusão ou se beijando - oque foi sua própria confusão tempos depois, estavam juntas. porém, donna nunca saiu do acampamento, e quando o tempo veio, que bee estava pronta para voltar a sua família, longe daquele lugar, donna não pode segui-la, o que quebrou seu coração e a fez terminar tudo, mesmo a outra insistindo que se veriam todo verão. deixou sua pessoa adorada para trás, e enterrou suas memórias e arrependimentos na florida - que completamente a fodeu. (@donnasjo )

( f / m / nb ) : ؂ press #006 to sing : ❛ who’s afraid of little old me ? ❜❝ i leap from the gallows and i levitate down your street. crash the party like a record scratch as i scream. “who’s afraid of little old me ?”. i was tame, i was gentle ‘til the circus life made me mean. “don’t you worry, folks, we took out all her teeth”. ❞

muse e amara chegaram ao acampamento próximos um do outro e sempre competiram por tudo, a rivalidade aumentando quando colocavam os primos e irmãos nas rodas de chacota. bee se tornou irada e impulsiva como era - irresponsável. os dois na arena, amara mais forte e bem treinada, quase lhe arrancou todos os dentes, mas enquanto celebrava vitória, bee levantou-se do chão cuspindo sangue, e lhe acertou uma flecha as costas ; covarde e sabia mas ainda sim, riu maníaca e gritou : ’ você não duraria uma hora no manicômio que me criaram ’. desnecessário dizer que não saiu barato. ( @amaranthaes )

( f / m / nb ) : ؂ press #007 to sing : ❛ how did it end ? ❜❝ we hereby conduct this post-mortem - he was a hot house flower to my outdoorsmen. our maladies were such we could not cure them and so a touch that was my birthright became foreign. ❞

bee e styx eram apaixonados pela mesma garota, apenas adolescentes tolos que prometeram não fazer nenhum passe em npc para preservar sua amizade, afinal, eram inseparáveis - contudo , bee e npc saíram em uma missão com tiny da qual a amada não retornou. o luto que dividiam acabaram por carregar sozinhos quando styx ficou do lado de tiny , negando bee de sua raiva. desde então, eram apenas um final triste, os toques sagrados para si tornaram-se estrangeiros para os dois, miseráveis e metade apaixonados.( @styxch & @tinykl )

more +

friends who are practically siblings. ( @mcronnie )

[ambiguouspuzuma]

Scarlet fève

It began with the clearing of a throat, easily washed down with her third glass of claret of the night. For all her complaints during the cutting of the cake, Otilenne had embraced her time as the Lady of Misrule, paper crown askew on her head, a playful smirk affixed to scarlet lips. It was only when her breathing became tight, and that tickle evolved into an unrelenting hacking cough, that the others realised something else was wrong.

Well, one of them had to have known: they'd seen her symptoms from the start, long before they began to appear. It was the other two who were genuinely petrified with shock, and able only to watch on, horrified, as she writhed and collapsed in front of them. Both families had seen their share of death, but they'd never been so close to it, not before tonight. Otilenne's eyes stared lifelessly ahead, her fingers curled around her own thin neck, as if attempting to save herself from choking. The smirk had gone, by then. For all the evening's merriment, she hadn't even died with a smile.

In truth, though, that was only the beginning of the end. This grisly scene was the dénouement of a story that began perhaps three decades hence, when the Robins and Lasoe families first decided to winter together in the mountains. They had met here, in fact. The sleepy Alpine town of Nem was not a particularly popular ski resort, but it was popular amongst those who avoid them, and both families had the wealth to justify that sort of privacy. Mr and Mrs Robins owned a chalet there, and Mr and Mrs Lahoe were visiting for the first time. It was not to be the last.

There were a cluster of intermediate runs on the north side of the mountains, a little away from more beaten slopes, which served as a secluded patch of snow for the rich and powerful to use as a childhood playground. The Robins' children, Henry and Isobel, had earnt their skis there, and they soon befriended the visiting Matis and Otilenne Lahoe. The four children were close in age, and as similar in background as any they might meet; their watching parents shortly followed suit, and the families became firm friends, agreeing to return to Nem at this same time every year to reconvene.

So it was that the Lahoes gave up their usual diversity of destinations to spend each winter in this quiet, isolated town, now habitual guests at the Robins holiday home. The chalet itself was even more remote, accessed only by a steep and twisting mountain road away from town, and not even wired for telephone or internet: Mr and Mrs Robins had always said that was ideal for this time of year, a catalyst to spend more quality time as a family, as Isobel now liked to remind the rest of them.

There had never been an explanation for the way the wind whistled through the cracks in the old stone walls, or the way the slabs underfoot seemed to drink in any warmth they managed to generate overnight, but three decades passed and they still found themselves coming back. The four children had begun to drift apart as they grew older, but the untimely passing of each of their parents had brought them closer together than ever before, united in their grief and the responsibilities of their newfound inheritance.

They each processed the shift in their own way, but Isobel wasn't alone in seeking the familiarity of tradition. Once a year, at her invitation, they began to meet here once again: the family they'd found, at the place where they'd begun. It was Epiphany, Twelfth Night, and the occasion seemed to justify a feast, the same pretext by which the Robins had first invited the Lahoes to brighten their door.

The centrepiece was always the galette des rois, the three kings cake, made to order by a boulangerie in town. Henry and Isobel placed the request when shopping for the remainder of the banquet, and Matis and Otilenne picked it up on their way up the hill. The cake had a centrepiece of its own, a fève which Isobel dropped off at the bakery, a small token to be hidden in one lucky slice: she turned up with a different favour every year, the one new stitch in her blanket of tradition.

Sometimes it was a charming model of an animal, sometimes a traditional festive item, sometimes a cartoon character. This year's fève was all three at once: a small ceramic reindeer, clearly modelled upon Rudolph from the song, except that the whole body, not just the nose, shone a garish, gaudy shade of scarlet red. Henry had thought it tacky, but then he always did. Isobel wasn't known for her love of subtlety.

"You outdo yourself," he said on their first evening back, rotating the token between his fingers. "You know that some people make do with a bean?"

"It has to be visible," Isobel pointed out. "We don't want anyone missing it and choking, do we? Besides, it's supposed to be fun. I like it. If you decide you suddenly care about such things, you can bring the fève next year."

After they'd supped on goose and soft cheese, the time came to cut the cake, and distribute the slice which would crown its recipient. As the youngest of the four, tradition dictated that Otilenne sit under the table and decide who would receive each piece, to ensure a random allocation. That was the way it always was: Henry did the actual slicing, ever the surgeon with his scalpel, in front of two pairs of watchful eyes, whilst she called names from down below. But not before complaining about the indignity of her role, which fit her less well than it had all of those years ago.

"Is this really necessary?" It was the same dining table as they'd used when they were children, and Otilenne now had to stoop to fit underneath it. She was relatively tall, and there had been incidents in the past, where she'd tried to stand up too soon and caught her head against the edge, so she was ever wary of getting back onto the floor. She'd always thought that Isobel should practice what she preached instead.

"Of course it is," Isobel told her. When tradition dictated, it so often did so in her voice. These rituals were important to her, now more than ever: echoing the cherished moments of their childhood, walking in the footsteps of their parents, in a bid to keep their memories alive. "Come on Lennie, be a good sport. It's just a bit of fun."

Otilenne changed her tune once they began to eat. Her prospecting spoon struck ceramic at the second attempt, and she drew the fève from the frangipane as if it were a sword in a stone, holding it aloft for all to see. There were muted cheers, a smattering of half-hearted applause, and Henry explained that the scarlet deer hadn't been his choice, as if there had ever been any doubt.

The evening's Queen accepted her coronation with good grace, but for the rest of the evening she leant into her new title, commanding the table to drink to her toasts and top up her drink, before finally keeling over into her bowl. There was nothing muted in the way that Isobel screamed at that, nor half-hearted in the way Henry and Matis leapt out of their seats, but there was nothing that they could do.

"She's gone." Henry finished his search for a pulse, and brushed his hand across her face to close her eyes. "I'm sorry."

"No!" Matis moved to push past him, but Henry held him back. "Please, you have to check again."

"I'm sorry, but it's clear without a doubt." Henry had been to medical school, as the others had often been reminded around this same table, as they dithered over their own paths in life after leaving education. As if their successful parents hadn't cast enough of a shadow.

"But... how?" That was Isobel, finding her words for the first time. "Did she choke on the cake?"

"There are no obstructions in her windpipe," Henry said. "I hesitate to say it, but this looks like something else."

"Like what?" Matis asked.

"Like she's been poisoned."

They all turned to look at the galette, and their own empty bowls. Otilenne had upturned hers, together with the jug of crème fraiche, her scarlet lipstick already darkening the cream. Or were those flecks of blood? With the shade she had chosen, it was impossible to tell. The colour reminded Henry of the reindeer, and he moved to where she'd placed it on the sideboard.

"She was coughing for a while," Matis offered, his own voice hoarse with grief. "Since we cut the king cake."

"There's a pinhole in the base." Henry lifted the fève for the other two to see, just as Otilenne had done not long ago. A white liquid was seeping out of the reindeer's gut - but it had been baked together with the cake, and never left to wallow in the cream. "The poison could have been placed in here, designed to contaminate the surrounding slice, and leaving the others unscathed. This could be the murder weapon."

"A murder weapon you two brought."

"I had no part in choosing the fève," Henry protested for the second time tonight. "That was all Issy, as it always is. But it was you and Lennie who turned up with the cake. Anything could have happened in the week it's been out of our sight. The fève could have been tampered with."

"Or the hole could have been there for innocent reasons," Isobel added. "They have them in some toys, to stop children from choking."

They turned to look at Otilenne again. Her crown was soaking in the cream, the flimsy paper soiled and plastered to her long dark hair. With a mumbled excuse, Isobel went to fetch the serviettes left untouched from their meal. She might have played the nurse in her and Henry's childhood games, but only he had pursued those ambitions, whilst she had frittered her youth as a socialite and part-time artist, subsisting on her family's largesse. That experience wouldn't help her now, even if the dramatic colours of the murder scene cried out to be captured in oils.

"She was my sister." When she returned, the accusations were flowing in full force, and Matis was unhappy to find them falling on his lap. "The last family I had left."

"Your next of kin," Henry pointed out. "You may have had the most of lose, but you also had the most to gain."

Isobel attempted to mop up some of the mess. The pool of cream was still expanding slowly, and threatened to spill into all of their laps, but the serviettes did little to stem the tide. They were flimsy, paper things, printed with a festive snowman scene, and tore at the slightest resistance. She might as well have used the crown on Otilenne's head.

"Are we sure it was any of us?" She tried to defuse the tension instead. "I mean, why take the risk? None of us could have known who would get the poison slice. Lennie chose them herself. It would be like a game of Russian Roulette."

"Russian Galette." Matis didn't mean it as a joke. "That's right. If I'd wanted Lennie dead, I could have poisoned her claret instead."

The others considered it. They'd all eaten the same thing, from the lentil soup to the galette, but the other three had all been drinking a crisp South African white. But being right didn't mean that he was innocent.

"You seem to have given this some thought", Henry noted quietly. "Lennie was just telling me that you'd been arguing recently, about your family's place in Berkshire. She wanted to sell, and you wanted to keep it. Apparently you had quite the spat on the journey here."

"What is Christmas for, if not family arguments?" Matis looked exasperated. "I don't see why I would kill her for that. I don't need her agreement to get my way, right? I have the status quo. Besides, don't you have a similar situation with this pile? This must be one, two million tied up in the distant past?"

"Neither of us want to sell," Henry said, looking to his sister for support. "Isn't that right?"

"Of course not!" Isobel agreed. "All of the memories we've had here... how could I ever let them go?"

"You certainly insist that we always came back here." Matis stepped away from them and stood in the corner, not quite able to look at where his sister lay slumped. "Always repeating the same traditions. If the king cake was the perfect murder weapon, allegedly random in its delivery, this would have taken quite some planning. Years of rehearsal, perhaps."

"What are you saying?"

"We're here because of you. That fève was in the cake because of you. I don't know where else I'm supposed to look. Who else could have done it?"

"You brought the cake. You could have dosed it on the way, perhaps prodding it with a toothpick from underneath to find the fève, like the way you test if it's cooked enough. It wouldn't have been hard to add the poison. I don't even know if it could have been added before the baking, or if it would have to have been done afterwards. Does poison survive being cooked?"

They turned to Henry, the scientist in their midst, but he shook his head. "Look, I studied medicine, not assassination. Poisons are hardly my speciality, before you start pointing those fingers at me. I have no idea what this could be. Arsenic, cyanide, or strychnine would have been much more violent. Ricin, maybe? That comes from the castor bean, so it could have been someone's idea of a sick joke."

"It sounds like you still know more than me," Matis said. "I wouldn't know where to begin. Besides, even if we did pick up the cake, I was with Lennie the whole time. I couldn't exactly lace it with ritalin or whatever in front of her. How do you suggest I go about doing that? I don't have a syringe."

They looked to Henry again, but it was Isobel who spoke first. "I'm sorry, but... I did see Henry with a syringe, earlier. It had some dirty-looking water in it."

"You mean the baster for the goose? The marinade?" Her brother sighed, and slumped back into his seat. "Seriously, Issy? I know you've never understood my work, but come on. Not everything I do is medical related. I took out the giblets too, but that doesn't mean I was performing surgery."

"I don't know, do I?" Isobel looked on the verge of another bout of tears. "We've all been through a lot. There's no need to be mean."

"But it's fine to imply that I'm a murderer?" Henry was unmoved. The siblings had grown apart over the years, with this annual tradition one of the few ties that kept them together. "We've all been alone with the cake, as far as I can remember. I don't appreciate being targeted just because I save lives for a living. I'm sure that either of you would be just as capable of taking one."

They cast their minds back to before Otilenne's stint under the table, before the first clearing of her throat, before the world had fallen apart. For them, this story went back not quite to those first childhood meetings, the vast pool of nostalgia in which Isobel continually seemed to bathe, but to the evening's opening exchanges. Sure enough, each of the trio had wandered the house alone for a time, Matis getting settled, his hosts making the final adjustments for tonight. Had one of them been more final than the rest?

Even after the merriment began, there had been plenty of time left for tampering. The Robins and Lahoe clans had always been spread across the globe, and they were at liberty to indulge in whichever local traditions they chose: chalking the door and opening windows to usher in good luck, before closing them again to keep in the warmth. None of the survivors could say that they'd always had eyes on the other two, with or without a syringe or a baster in their hand. It wasn't about what they'd witnessed, but what they hadn't.

"We aren't going to solve this ourselves," Henry conceded. "You two should head down to town and get the police. I'll stay with Lennie's body until they arrive. I'm the only one who's spent time with a cadaver before, and I've already touched both her and the reindeer."

"Do both of us have to go?"

"Do either of you trust the other to go alone?" They shared an uneasy glance, but neither disagreed. "Matis, your car is blocking mine in. We can't all go, in case you're the killer and decide to take us elsewhere, so I'll stay back as insurance. If you don't both make it back within half an hour, I'll head to the police myself and send them after whichever of you survives."

He saw them to the door, and watched on as they headed down into Nem's murky night. The sun set sooner down the slopes, and the Robins chalet often enjoyed the last vestiges of winter light before dusk rose to claim their windows too. Matis's headlights mapped out golden skis ahead of them, and the car was soon careering down the frozen hill as if they had no time to lose. They certainly didn't have much of it left.

"You dragged that out," Otilenne told him, once the heavy door had clicked in place. "I can't breathe cream, you know."

"At least I closed your eyes." Henry passed her the serviettes. "You've been having a nice nap whilst I've had to lie through my teeth. I can't believe that Issy saw me with that syringe."

"I can't believe she bought the baster outrage. I had to keep a straight face."

"I'm lucky she didn't see me doing it. I must have barely closed the bonnet, because I hardly had the brake fluid for a minute."

"Did you pour it down the drain?"

"Over the tyres. I thought I'd grease the wheels, you know?"

"With brake fluid?" Otilenne shook her head. "Like someone's idea of a sick joke, huh?"

"I couldn't resist." Henry smiled back at her, and helped her wipe the last smidgeon of cream from her lip. "So... it's finally just the two us, all alone in this awful old house for the first and last time. It'll be gone too by this time next year, and you can sell your family's pile as well. We can finally make our own life."

"And not a moment too soon." In the distance, they heard the echoes of a crash, an explosion; like fireworks, rising to welcome in a new year. "That sounds like time to celebrate."

"Another glass of claret, my queen?" Henry reached across to take her glass. "I suppose we're due another toast."

#writing #short story #original fiction #creative writing #original writing

[thotsforvillainrights]

I think we could all use something silly,so how about headcanons of the shie hassaikai going bowling?

(Makes me want to go bowling again myself haha! I wasn’t sure if reader was supposed to be inserted into this one or not so I just decided to do the boys only! Also, we’ll open it up with Chisaki if that’s alright!)

~The Hassaikai Goes Bowling~

headcanon|scenario|imagine|match-up

-He was quiet, too quiet. The old man was either sick or plotting something. Chisaki could tell simply from observing Pops in the moment. It wasn’t as if business was bad lately. In fact, it was the best its been in a while. So because of this, he knew Pops wasn’t upset which only left one possibility...”Oh no.” Pops smiled as he stood at Kai’s office door with a matching T-shirt similar to the one he was clothed in himself. “Why the long face boy?! Cheer up! I’ve decided to bring a few of the men for an outing to celebrate our recent success! Here, we have matching shirts!” The old man tossed the shirt onto Kai’s desk. Chisaki picked it up and shrunk into himself from embarrassment. “The 8 pins of death???” He scowled at the Shie Hassaikai symbol surrounded by bowling pins. “Pops no...please?” The old man frowned before moving to thump Chisaki on the head (just as he did when he was a child). “No complaints! The car is warmed up and we’re riding with Chrono there! Get changed and let’s go have fun eh?” 

-Kai silently wished Hari had wrecked the car on the way to the bowling alley to save himself from the outing but unfortunately Hari’s bad driving wasn’t bad enough to kill...yet.

-There was nothing more silly than seeing a faction of the Yakuza out on a bowling fieldtrip. Had it not been for Pop’s kindness then they likely wouldn’t have been allowed into the building. The workers were scared and rightfully so! Katsukame was with them and kept staring the people down. Rappa was no help at all either! However, people respected the old man regardless of the yakuza actions. Therefore, the boys had gotten in with no problem. Kai was being difficult with the show switching. He refused to change out of his shoes and put on the bowling shoes. “Who knows how many other disgusting feet they’ve touched. Absolutely not. No fucking way am I doing this. Pops, I’m going to go wait in the car.” Pops grabbed him by the ear and basically dragged him with him. “You may not want to wear the shoes, but you’re going to spend time with us regardless of the situation young man.” Sometimes Kai just wanted to die when he was treated like a kid again.

-Deidoro found out they served beer at the concession stand and he stood in a very long tine for the tiny overpriced cup. Nemoto didn’t trust the food enough to buy any of it, so the drinks were also off the table. He wasn’t a germaphobe, but he could’ve swore he saw a fly or two back in the kitchen. This didn’t bother Tabe since he came with a pocket full of money and a goal to get everything the menu had to offer. The concession workers had their work cut out for them tonight. Setsuno snuck off to the arcade room when he saw a stuffed animal sitting in a claw machine that he secretly wanted so badly. Unfortunately Irinaka had caught him and ended up recording him the whole time. He’d probably use this against the man as blackmail whenever he needed something. While Setsuno won his plush and snuck it out to the car while he thought no one was looking, a few of the others were entering their initials into the machine for the first round of the game. 

POP-Pops

KAI-Kai

ASS-Rappa

TNG-Tengai

CHR-Chrono

HOJ-Hojo

NEM-Nemoto

-”Really...Ass? How childish can you get?” Tengai complained as Rappa chuckled to himself. First up it was Pops. The old man had lost some of his bulk from his younger days but still had the strength to pick up a heavier ball and roll it. Surprisingly he’d taken down a good amount of pins! Rather satisfied with a good start, he stepped out of the way and tapped the ball dispenser while looking at Kai. The young head sighed and finally gave into the activity. He walked up to the balls and frowned before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a disinfectant wipe. He wiped the ball holes good before lifting it up and carelessly rolling it along the way. “Boooooooooo, Overhole can’t bowl for shit!” Rappa teased when the ball crawled its way into the gutter and missed every single pin. Kai glared at him as he took his seat. “Lemme show you how it’s done!!!” Rappa wasn’t even using his strong arm quirk when he let the ball fly. It rapidly knocked down a ton of pins, nearly enough to get a full strike. “Let’s go!!!” Rappa cheered himself on and Pops chuckled (despite Rappa taking the lead over him). Tengai stood up and gently grabbed the ball before standing there and calculating in his head just where he’d need to roll it and at what speed. After about 5 minutes...and Rappa booing him on...Tengai was finally ready to roll the ball. So he did! And it rolled so slow that it did the very same thing Chisaki’s ball did when it went into the gutter. Tengai frowned and a few of the others laughed (excluding Nemoto and Kai of course). “Better luck next time, pal.” Chrono pat his back as he stood up. When Chrono rolled his ball, he got a strike. His form was perfect and his speed was on point. “Hari if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’ve done this before hmm?” Pops smirked at him. Hari shrugged and smiled. “I’m the bowling master.” Hojo chuckled and rolled his eyes. “I’ll show you the bowling master.” 

-By the end of that round/game the person that came out on top had actually ended up being Nemoto! Hari was 2nd, Hojo 3rd, Rappa 4th, Pops 5th, Tengai 6th, and Kai was in dead last. Soon the others joined in the other lane for their game while the first group too a break to eat. All except Chisaki and Nemoto of course. Kai ended up sneaking over to the next lane and joining in the game with the others.

SET-Setsuno

TAB-Tabe

MIM-Irinaka

ASS-Katsukame

TIT-Deidoro

KAI-Kai

“Tit? Are we being absolutely serious right now Deidoro???” The man shrugged at Kai. “What? Ass was already taken by Katsukame so I had to go with Tit.” Deidoro defended himself as if it was a regular thing to do. Setsuno was up first and he was extraordinarily bad at bowling. He had a light ball so it should’ve been faster than the heavier ones. How it’s possible to miss every single time was ridiculous. At least now Kai knew he wouldn’t be dead last. Tabe was up next. He wasn’t too bad at it. Tabe was probably average when stacked against the others. He was okay with that. He didn’t sense any real need for competition and was just happy to be out and about with his group. Irinaka was like Rappa, bowling too hard and too fast but still taking out pins. He might’ve possibly jammed the machine a few times and the workers had to come fix it. “Should’ve stayed in your small form and let them bring the little kids bowling slide out to help you. Maybe then you would’ve stuck out at least.” Katsukame shit-talked the man and Mimic growled at him. Although the power was there, Katsukame still lacked what he needed to be good at bowling. He was too tall and too rough with the ball. He ended up throwing the damned thing instead of rolling it. It’s lucky the workers hadn’t decided to kick him out yet! Deidoro by now was drunk off his ass and rolled the ball across into the other lane somehow and completely fucked up some poor families outing. Pops stood up from his food table and went to apologize to them while Nemoto had to help Deidoro into the parking lot so he could puke into the bushes. Finally it was Kai’s turn. He found that he rather enjoyed bowling once he actually stopped complaining and pouting like a teenager and finally played the game like it was supposed to be played. Turns out he was rather good at it (and Pops of course took lots of pictures since he was proud). “We’ll have to do this again someday.” The old man spoke to himself as he watched his boy get yet another strike.

#turned a little soft near the end there #my bad yall! #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #shie hassaikai #yakuza #eight bullets #Eight Precepts of Death #eight expendables #eightfold cleansers #Headcanon

[khlor0s]

NURSING MY ES GACHA IN PRSK WAS UP AND NOBODY TOLD ME!:9/!:@/$/

#nem quiet down #IVE BEEN WAITING #MY 30k GEMS ARE GOING DOWN THE DRAIN

[thesecoldfeet]

i was told by our friend that angel visited her in her dreams. ang sabi daw eh pakisabi naman sakin na miss na niya ako. that girl.

hindi talaga nagpapakabog si ante. alam ko na agad yung reason bakit siya bumisita sa dream ng friend namin. nung una iniisip ko, was it because napag-usapan namin siya ni nem? until i realized, probably being the girl that she was, nagtampo na yon when i told a good friend of mine na para siyang si angel na sobrang daming energy. damot yon eh.

and also, i've been quiet for quite some time. trying to hold space for myself and deal all my shit privately so somehow i was thinking, maybe she's also worried because before when she was still here and my heart is completely shattered, she's literally my one call away friend. isang tawag ko lang don parang split ring palang sinasagot na nya agad tapos iiyak lang ako nang sobra. makikinig lang siya hanggang sa kusa na ako titigil sa pag-iyak, saka siya kukuda ng wala nang bukas. reminding me of how strong i am.

gelibean, kung may tumblr man dyan sa heaven (kung andyan ka nga juk onleh) at mababasa mo 'to, please know that i am okay. not okay, okay, but you know, we'll get there naman eventually. ang dami nang nangyari since we lost you. sa 22o lang talaga, may mga times pa din na hindi ko matanggap na nauna ka sakin. totoo. malalim yung bubog ng pagkawala mo. sometimes iniisip ko nalang din na while nakikita mo naman kami from there, okay na din na andyan ka kasi wala ng pain dyan. wala ng confusion. makakapagpahinga ka na at isa pa, hindi mo na ako ulit maririnig na umaatungal over the phone kasi baka mapalipad ka pa ng cavite kung maririnig mo kong umiyak ngayon. chz.

i have 9 tattoos now. napanood ko na din yung kodaline this year. it got me so sentimental because i remembered na it was one of your dreams din to see them live. i broke down when they played "high hopes", gellow. i screamed and sang my heart out when it played as if aabot naman ang sigaw ko sa langit. sana narinig mo. narinig ko na din ng live yung umaapaw at spaces na shuta ka. tinanong pa ako ng kapatid ko paano ko nadiscover si martti franca aba may gaga ba namang nagdedicate sakin ng spaces nung na fall siya? hahahahaha

i'm almost done with my mba, too. sana kayanin. manifesting but syempre kinakabahan pa din because grabe ang twists and turns ng buhay ko ngayon.

while it's true na i've met people who has the same energy as you, you know very well na they're not like you because you're different. you're the first person who helped me to be more patient and understanding to people, especially to the people who's not mentally okay. you became one of my inspiration on how to be a good ate.

you always tell me that you love to leave traces to the people you value. may you always be reminded that the traces you left for me is always here. it will never fade.

kung close man kayo ni susej dyan, bulungan mo nalang na sana tama na ang power tripping. joke. huhu.

i miss you terribly. wag mo na kami gabayan dito. magpahinga ka nalang dyan.

the grief never goes away, gel. but thank you for always looking out for me.

#letters #ang sakit mo na naman sa puso jusko enjel marie

[hirokiyuu]

Nem/Sym 12. Snuggling with my jacket, peacefully asleep (I couldn't not pick this)

She doesn't stir. Again his mouth opens, her name resting once more on his lips, but this time he finds himself stopping, because for once Anemone looks... peaceful. It's an expression that's become a more common sight, these days, but somehow it still strikes him each and every time he sees it.

Instead he leans over, taking her in. She sleeps with her lips just barely parted, eyelids parted, and a single curl rests itself on her cheek. He reaches out, brushes it back; the texture of her hair is different from Solanaceae's, and instead of pulling away as he'd meant to, he finds himself lingering, taking in the feel of it against the pads of his fingers.

A breeze blows; she shivers. Early Pollen isn't quite cold, but it still can't be entirely comfortable, hidden in the shade as she is. The solution is simple, then: he shrugs off his coat, places it carefully atop her.

It occurs to him only as he's finished settling it over her arms that this may be overstepping, somewhat. Their tentative truce is still a new and fragile thing; only in the past few months has she begun to greet him with a hesitant smile, and even then there are days where she has to turn away.

But before he can lean down to take it back, she reaches up, tugging it closer around herself, and as she does some tension Sym hadn't even noticed loosens in her shoulders.

...Alright. In that case, he'll leave it. Still, despite the fact they've begun to get along these days, he's not certain how Anemone would react if she were to wake and see him leaning over her. Best not to risk it.

He stands, careful and quiet, and finds himself looking over Anemone just one more time: her fingers tight on his jacket; the mess of her hair spread beneath her; the faint rise and fall of her body with each breath she takes, and as he does it strikes him just how far they've come. Himself, and the Gardeners, and the colony, and her. All of them, learning from each other, growing, and though he doubts his curiosity for these beings will ever be fully sated, he's grateful every single day he's being given the chance to learn. Grateful that Anemone, in particular, is trying.

He finds he's begun to smile. "Sleep well, Anemone," he murmurs, and leaves her to her rest.

#i was taking a bit of a break from prompts but then i saw it was linis bday and i like #SLAMMED open my askbox to find a sym/nem prompt she sent me #HAPPY BDAY LINI I HOPE ITS A GOOD ONEEEEE #i think when she wakes up shes like ......? a moment before she recognizes it #and i think she has a moment where she realizes she was asleep and vulnerable and all sym did was.... give her a blanket #and i think shes got an Odd sort of feeling abt it. not quiiiite romantic but like #a Feeling. u kno #how do you writing #i was a teenage exocolonist #asks #restlessreveries #ask meme #this is a bit sappy and i might reread it to go over my sym voice in a bit but. u kno #its fine who cares the emotional core is there its fine

[merrybandofmurderers]

wip wed

the next part of the revisions for my jain fic. only two left ✌

(cw brief allusion to sexual abuse)

~

Jain ascends the stairs to Vivienne’s balcony. Seeking her counsel always provokes the sensation of having been called to the First Enchanter’s office. But unlike the First Enchanter, she is excited to see nem. She rises instantly from her seat and clasps nir hands in greeting.

“What a magnificent performance, my dear! Why did you never say you possessed such skill?” Her superior mask is back in place, but Jain knows from her rare touch that she is relieved to see nem fully recovered.

“To be honest, I didn’t know I did,” ney admits.

Her gaze is shrewd as she looks nem over before saying, “Come, sit.” She directs Jain to a chair, pours a glass of sparkling juice she keeps just for nem. She pours champagne for herself and sits across from nem, alert. “You didn’t know.”

Jain looks down at nir drink, twiddling it. “I’ve always been… wary of my magic.”

“Not a bad instinct,” she says, sipping her champagne.

“I don’t think I’ve ever liked my magic. It took me away from my family, put me in a prison. And no matter what I learned, I couldn’t even use it to help people. It—it felt like the curse the Chantry told me it was.”

Vivienne frowns, sympathetic, but remains quiet to let Jain continue.

“My skill was… lacking. I studied as much as I could—I didn’t want to be dangerous—but I was afraid to trust myself. I think only my lack of power saved me from being made Tranquil.” The Rite had been offered just before nir Harrowing, and Jain doesn’t want to admit ney considered it; only the knowledge of the Tranquil’s treatment held nem back.

Vivienne’s frown deepens, her grasp tight on her glass. But still, she stays silent, waiting.

“I’ve always thought it was best to avoid the attention of Templars, that my lack of power was a good thing. That if I had to be trapped with them, at least they didn’t have a reason to look twice at me.” They had, thanks to Jain’s looks—an “exotic” Nevarran—but not with the intent of violence. In the Circle, all luck was relative.

“There are many Circle mages with that philosophy,” Vivienne says neutrally. “I do not disdain them for it. It is not shameful to do what is necessary to protect oneself.”

Jain traces a finger over the chair’s embroidered silk cushion. It feels like an excuse. Jain hadn’t been protected, ney’d just been afraid. “You fought.”

She nods. “I had the skill and strength of will to do so. Not everyone has that capacity. I take it upon myself to lift my people up with me.”

Jain’s teeth worry nir lower lip. It still doesn’t sound right, feels too much like soothing nir regrets. Jain doesn’t think the Circle was entirely wrong, but enough of it was. Jain had felt like there was nothing ney could do, but it wasn’t nothing. Vivienne proved that. Fiona proved that. Even the apostate Anders proved that. But Jain was too paralyzed by fear to see it.

“I wanted things to change, but I was too cowardly to be one to try.” Voice hushed, ney says, “You have never been afraid.”

“Why, darling,” she titters, only a little patronizing, “of course I have.”

Jain looks up, eyes wide.

Vivienne twirls her glass between her elegant fingers. “There have been many times I was afraid. I feared for myself and my fellow mages, that I would lose my position, that I wasn’t doing enough.” She raises her chin. “But I cannot dwell on that. I must move forward.” She smirks over the rim of her glass. “But I am flattered you think me impervious to fear.”

Jain can only stare at her.

Vivienne sets her drink aside, gifting Jain her full attention. “With the death of the Divine, you have achieved a position beside the highest authority in Thedas. A position a mage has never held. You have the power to make great change.” She leans forward, taking Jain’s hand again in her own. “We will see it is not wasted.”

Jain straightens in nir seat, drawn in by Vivienne’s deep brown eyes.

Fear had defined Jain’s life in the Circle; it was a difficult mindset to shake. Here, now, so far removed from that world, it sometimes feels like a dream, like Jain will wake to before the Conclave, before the rebellion, before the Kirkwall Chantry. Jain is afraid to grow accustomed to freedom.

But there will never be another chance like this. And Jain is tired of being afraid.

“We” Vivienne said. Because Jain is not alone. Hope blossoms in nir chest.

~

@mrs-theirin, @calicostorms, @ringneckedpheasant, @transfenris-truther, @fade-and-loathing-in-thedas, @championsofthejust

#my stuff #my fic #fic: in heart's drumming #oc: jain trevelyan #vivienne

[whatisreggieshortfor]

The Rogue and the Mage

For @bypine

Kassam x MC, Henrik & MC

Fantasy/Adventure AU

Anemone- symbolize anticipation and are thought to bring luck and protect against evil

Noah- rest/peace

Kassam- king (though different sources differ on the answer)

Henrik- home ruler

Anemone sat atop the cliff overlooking miles and miles to their ruined city, deep in thought about the journey ahead. City might be a bit of a generous term. It was hobbled together with the remnants of survivors they’d managed to find and rescue. ‘They’…she looked around at her adventure party, the ones willing to put in the footwork and face the danger to find a place where their survivors would be safe, where they could try to start the world again. It would be different, no kingdom to rule over their people, not since the wind dragon of the north had begun unleashing its creations, but she hoped it would be better.

Kassam, their rogue for when they needed to tread carefully. He would’ve been next in line for the throne had the monsters not destroyed their home. She would not have met him had they not attacked.

Noah, their lullaby bard for when the nights got hard. His name meant peace, and his songs filled them with it.

Henrik, their barbarian, but only on a battlefield. His mother took Anemone in when the first monsters slaughtered her parents as they hunted. His name meant home. She found that fitting.

Anemone, the mage of protection and luck. Her only goal was to keep them safe as they fought for a better world.

The four of them were all they each had left.

“Nem!” Her head snapped over to the forest behind her, her brother silhouetted by the sun hitting his blonde hair, “Come on, we need to get moving.” She took the hand held out to her as he got closer, hoisting her up from the ground. They fell into step, never ignoring their surroundings completely, so they weren’t surprised when Kassam swung down from a branch as they reached the tree line.

“It seems to be quiet ahead.” He informed them quietly, eyes only flicking to Henrik’s face briefly before locking onto Anemone’s. “We should still tread carefully.”

She took the lead with a nod, as she always did. They were named for the powers they possessed. She was to sense the anticipation of danger, to warn them of things that were coming, so as the goosebumps sprang up on her skin her feet halted their movements. She held up her fist, hearing the others fall still as the breeze finally rustled the trees. The warning sign. “The wind is coming.” Noah muttered, “It’s coming.”

Anemone shook her head, “Not it. It’s creations.” Her hands extended toward the dirt and twigs that covered the forest floor, springing them to life as they formed a dome around her and Noah. Kassam sprang up into the trees above them as Henrik readied his sword, eyes scanning the winds origin. Anemone hoped it would be only one, but she could feel it in her gut, the way it tossed and flipped and turned, there was more coming.

The howl entered the wind a moment later, it wouldn’t be long. Anemone only had a moment, a moment to decide. She sprang out from the dome, enclosing it around Noah even as he hit the side and called her back. She saw Kassam’s eyes widen, his grip on his bow slipping for only a second before he gripped it tighter, hard determination filling his eyes as he directed his gaze toward the enemy’s entry. Henrik tried to force her behind him, but she wouldn’t let him. She shaped an axe of light into her hands, bracing her feet against the ground and bending her knees. The sunlight dimmed, shadows springing to life as they took form, and the battle ensued.

When the wind ceased blowing, Anemone finally let the done around Noah fade away. She channeled her power carefully into fixing the small bumps and bruises her brother received before turning to Kassam. The rogue groaned as she pulled his shirt up to reveal his bloodied torso, and for a moment she was lost as she stared at the injury, stuck in the moment of how it happened.

The dregs drew closer, even as Henrik sliced and she chopped and Kassam pierced. They were multiplying. The party needed to buy time until the wind would stop. Until the monster would stop it. But Anemone had to split her focus. She was concentrating magic into her axe, but she had to send just as much concentration into the protective dome around Noah. So she didn’t see the dreg coming up behind her. But Kassam did.

“Why would do that?” She sniffled, a lone tear slipping down her cheek as she floated her hands over the injury to heal it. “You need to stay safe or no one is ever going to make it to find a new home.”

“Won’t be much of a home if you aren’t there.” He grumbled under his breath. She felt her cheeks burn as her eyes darted up to his face, the seriousness of his expression making her heart thump.

Henrik narrowed his eyes at the comment, gaze flicking between his sister and their ally. He’d have to address that later. “We need to find a shelter for the night.”

Noah pulled from his bag, finding the ancient maps they were using to traverse the country, “Depending on our luck, there should be an abandoned vampire den in about a mile.”

“And if it’s not abandoned?” Kassam asked as he finally stood again.

Noah glanced at the blood that stained his clothes, “We’ll just have to hope, I suppose.” Kassam snorted, shaking his head and ignoring the calculating look the blonde was sending his way.

That night as they sat around the campfire, Anemone flitted around as she always did, checking for any missed aches or pains. Kassam couldn’t help but watch her fondly. He had never had many people that he got to be close to growing up. He was a prince, he was meant to be king; there was no room for friends when that’s your destiny. And then when they were mid teens the monsters attacked their home instead of waiting for hunters to venture out. The four of them had managed to get out, and they had stuck together since. They’ve been traveling around rescuing survivors as a team for six years now. And he would never want to travel without her.

But Henrik saw the look on his face. “Kassam. A word, please.”

Anemone’s brow furrowed as the former prince seemed to tense up before he slowly stood to follow. She leaned over to Noah as he absentmindedly plucked at his lute, “What’s going on with him?”

Noah snorted as he twanged a string in surprise, “Really? Like you don’t know?” She cocked her head at him, eyes flitting anxiously back and forth and he blinked, “Oh, you really don’t know.”

“Know what??”

Noah shook his head in disbelief, “Your brother is finally realizing that Kassam is-“ he stopped, shaking his head again, “Nevermind. Your brother is just being protective.”

“Kassam would never hurt me.” It was something she had said a lot in the beginning, when Henrik was wary of him joining them on their search because he feared the prince would abandon her to save himself if it came down to the two of them. But she was always adamant that he wouldn’t. And there were days like today that he proved her right.

Noah just chuckled softly, “Yeah. I know. Your brother is learning. Just give him time.”

She frowned, glancing over at them as the two men muttered quietly to each other. She saw Kassam’s arms crossing over his chest from behind, fingers twitching where they gripped his biceps to stop from tugging at his ear. Henrik had his hands on his hips, his face shifting between something akin to fear and glaring. Anemone stood up before Noah could stop her, making her way over and placing her hand on Kassam’s shoulder, “Are you guys okay?”

“Oh! Anemone…uh…” she watched the flush fill his cheeks, eyes flicking briefly over to her brother only to travel back as he rolled his eyes at them.

The barbarian sighed as he looked at the rogue, “Just remember what I said.” His gaze shifted, softening slightly at his sister, “Ask him why he chose to save you earlier.”

She opened her mouth to respond, but he was already walking away. Anemone looked back to Kassam, suddenly aware that her hand still sat on his shoulder. She slowly pulled it away, clearing her throat, “Kas?” He had been very against the nickname at first, but as time went on he allowed it from her, “What did he mean?”

He huffed a sigh, “He finally realized just how far I’m willing to go for you.”

“Wouldn’t you have done the same for them?” She asked carefully.

Kassam shrugged stiffly, “It’s possible. But I also would’ve trusted them to save themselves. With you, I just- I wasn’t willing to risk it.”

She could feel her heart rate pick up, thumping harder against her chest, as hope filled her, “Can I ask you why?”

Kassam scoffed, but there was no heat or anger or annoyance to it, “Like you don’t know.”

“Please. Tell me.”

His blue eyes traced over every inch of her face slowly, like he was trying to memorize it, “You were the first person that ever treated me like a person, you know?” She stayed quiet, watching him gather his thoughts, “I never thought I’d get that. And yeah, this dragon is using its demons to destroy the world, and it took that for me to be able to have this, but I would do it again to have this- and I know how horrible that sounds, I do. We all lost our families and we’ve found all these people that will never be the same- but to have you in my life, I just-“

She squeezed his shoulder, giving him a soft smile, “I get it. I feel the same way about meeting you.”

“I-“ He drew in a deep breath. He could fight off monsters with a bow he learned to shoot on the run for their lives, he could tell her this, “I jumped down to save you because I am nothing without you, Nem. I was nothing before you, and I’ll be nothing again if I lose you.”

“Then you need to stay safe.” She told him sternly, but her lips were still curved up into a smile, “Because I’d be nothing if I lost you, too.”

“Really?”

“Really.” She reached out and squeezed his hand, only to be interrupted by her brother.

“I’m happy for you both and all, but keep the lovey stuff away from me. You hurt her, Kassam, and I’ll end you before the dragon has the chance.”

“I know.” The archer answered with a smile, “I’ll let you. Having her is worth it.”

Masterlist

@justtuesdays @sunshinejihyun

#litg #litg season 2 #litg kassam #litg noah #litg henrik #litg kassam x mc #adventure au #fantasy au #no villa au #s2litgexchange

[writersmorgue]

Day 27 - survivor's guilt

read on Ao3

word count: 347

TWs in tags

╞╪╪╪╪╪╪╪╪╪╪╪╪╪╪╪╪╡

He wasn’t supposed to live. 

He was supposed to die in this war like some noble asshole and be remembered as the hero no one knew about. 

Shouta was already down an eye and a leg, he was canon fodder at this point, a means for attack. 

And now he’s breathing, hooked up to an IV, sitting in his uncomfortable ass hospital bed as he signs consent forms for his husband’s remains to be sealed in an urn. 

“I’m truly sorry, Aizawa.” Tsukauchi pauses, looking at the empty chairs next to him, “If it helps, we believe it was quick.”

It wasn’t. Hizashi had been stripped of his quirk before he was killed. They believe it was quick because he hadn’t made any noise. Shouta has seen the tapes, he’s seen the pain in his husband’s eyes as he was disintegrated alive. 

Those were not the eyes of someone who was at peace. 

Shouta sighs, handing the forms to the solemn nurse who takes his leave. 

“Do my kids know?”

The detective looks uncomfortably away, “I… believe Shinsou knows. Eri doesn’t as far as I’m aware. I’ll have someone escort her to you.”

“She shouldn’t see me right now. Have Nem- um… take her to Hitoshi first. They should be together. 

He never thought he’d be the last of them. 

Tsukauchi nods, leaving Shouta alone in the quiet room. 

Hizashi was adopted by an older couple in middle school, but they’re both long gone now. Shouta’s own mothers are estranged enough, though they come around for Christmas every once in a while. 

Yagi has taken enough of a liking to Eri, maybe he’ll babysit when Shouta has to patrol. Hitoshi is old enough, but he doesn’t want to force that responsibility on him. He has a boyfriend he spends his free time with-

“Gods, Hizashi,” He whispers, wetness escaping his only eye to crawl down his face, “why’d you have to leave.”

He pulls his knee up to his chest, ignoring the tug of the dozen wires attached to various parts of him. 

It should’ve been me.

#febuwhump #febuwhump2023 #febuwhumpday27 #ficlet #drabble #my fic #llyn writes shit #cross posted on ao3 #bnha fic #mha fic #bnha #mha #whump #survivor's guilt #aizawa shouta #hizashi yamada #erasermic #bnha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #mha manga spoilers #manga spoilers #spoilers #murder #sad #hospitals #no happy ending #hopeful ending but really not because i hate you #angst #kidnapping