pysankywrites-updates

[pysankywrites-updates]

posting a snippet from the next third year things fic because it’s been too long and I’ve missed this universe too.

(it’s not much and it’s only a snippet, but, hey, it’s better than nothing🤷‍♀️ (and hopefully I’ll have the full fic posted by the end of the month))

without further ado though, I present a first look at:

roses are red, violets are blue, vodka is cheaper, than dinner for two

From the moment that Simon awoke that morning, a creeping sense of dread came over him. He didn’t know what was causing it though.

The halls of Forest Ridge were quiet. Wilhelm was still asleep beside him. Pale, watery light framed the edges of the drapes. Everything seemed fine.

The dread followed him through his normal morning routine though, from the shower to getting dressed and even down to breakfast where everything seemed relatively normal too—or, well, as normal as it could be given the way that things had been lately. There was an energy in the air though that was different, and it was, surprisingly, the first-years who provided the answer that Simon had been seeking all morning.

“Just use ChatGPT for the letter,” Felix said loudly to Sebbe at the other end of the table. “It can definitely write a better Valentine’s letter than you!”

In the time that it took Sebbe to react, Simon had his own reaction—inhaling tea and nearly spitting it across the table onto Alex—that had Wilhelm looking over at him concernedly and asking if he was alright.

Fuck. It was Saint Valentine’s Week. God save them all.

————

————

In general, Hillerska was just an odd place at any given time during the year. Simon didn’t know if this was a general rich person thing, or if it was Hillerska specific and the school just attracted a certain type of freak. And, no, he obviously was not included in that category no matter what Henry might claim otherwise.

(“You’re as freaky as the rest of us,” the blonde had drily pointed out one day when they were sitting outside and Simon had dared to muse aloud on the general weirdness of the school. “Maybe even more so. You are dating Wilhelm after all. Willingly.”

Simon had said some unkind things in return about how Henry was as freaky as they came, and the blonde boy had opened his mouth and only proved him right.)

There were certain times of the year that the absolute chaotic weird freakiness peaked though, and unfortunately Saint Valentine’s Week was one of them.

It was only Monday and things had already gotten out of hand. After being basically kicked out of the library, he and Wilhelm had wandered into the main building to kill the few minutes that they had before their final class that afternoon. The sight that greeted them was unfortunate to say the least—or, well, it was in Simon’s opinion. Wilhelm, the hopeless romantic that he would forever be, seemed to be eating it up.

The halls looked as if an overeager and hungover Cupid had thrown up all over them. (Honestly, Hillerska had way too much money if this was how they were choosing to spend it.) Streamers were strung up between door frames and paper cut-outs hung throughout the rooms. Other students were giggling as they fawned over the decorations, different groups posing for pictures and gossiping in random corners as if the paper hearts around them would hide whatever vicious rumors they were likely trading. And it seemed as if this was only one building of many that was doomed to a similar fate; out of a nearby window, Simon spied some workmen carrying ladders and lugging clear tote boxes stuffed with Valentine’s decor into one of the other academic buildings. Poor men.

A glance over at Wilhelm and Simon held back a sigh. There was a gleam in the other’s eyes that meant he was scheming.

“Whatever you’re planning—no,” he told the other boy, flopping down unceremoniously in one of the large over-stuffed chairs. Wilhelm followed more gracefully, crossing one leg over the other in that lanky way of his that Simon was sadly too short to ever achieve.

“Who said that I was planning anything?” his boyfriend asked innocently—too innocently. Honestly, he was overdoing it with the Bambi-esque eyelash batting. Simon told him as much, and it made the other boy snort out a laugh. “No, seriously though, who said anything about me planning something?”

Simon gave him a look. His boyfriend was many wonderful, amazing things; however, subtle wasn’t really one of them.

“I don’t understand why you’re giving me that look.”

He sighed and pulled his notebook and required reading out. “Can we just please not have a repeat of the baby grand incident this year?”

Beside him, Wilhelm started spluttering, and Simon grinned to himself as he started reading over his notes for their literature class. At least one of them would know what was going on when Ramirez inevitably called on them.

[pysankywrites-updates]

huge news: finally broke free of my writer’s block and depression spiral ⛓️‍💥

(I know it’s not 3rd year things or cerebrum, and I’m not sure this will even go anywhere, but hey it’s something)

Anyway, enjoy this weird little plot bunny that has been nagging at me for a while now and has been deemed the “Undine AU” in my docs app lol

Simon had been following the ship for a few days now.

It hadn’t been intentional at first. They had crossed paths somewhere off the southern coasts, where the waters had still been warm and the path of Sara’s scent had still been fresh. Simon had spent his days following the trail, speaking with other creatures and listening to the currents that swirled around. Above him, ships had cut back and forth across the surface of the water, shadows creating ripples in the sun rays that shot through the dark depths. After one of the currents had brought news of a ship though, and he had picked up a fresh lead on his sister’s trail, he had begun to notice the movements above him though. The one that had specifically caught his attention was the one he was now following.

Sara’s path had faded a few days ago though, and all he had been left with was the ship. So, here he was following it, the waters growing colder as they made their way further north and his arms tiring as he tried to keep up. Soon, he would have to make a choice whether to push himself further or to take a break and potentially lose what was left of his sister’s trail. For now though, he kept swimming.

———

A storm was coming; a bad one. He could tell even from the depths where he floated, carried on by the currents as he took a few moments to rest. Above him, the surface shifted every few seconds, and around him the currents murmured restlessly. They would soon heed the call to violence too, he was sure, and he would need to retreat even further into the depths to avoid the worst of it. Doing so would mean losing sight of the ship that he had been following though, so he was reluctant to retreat quite yet.

Something brushed against his leg, and he looked down to find a sea serpent passing by, fins curling gently around his ankles as it went. It was an older one by the looks of it, its body receding into the dark far beyond what even his heightened vision could detect.

So far from home, little one? The serpent chided, scales glinting with a luminescent, silvery light in the darkness as it passed by him. A moment later, its snout came to nudge at his side, dark eyes gazing back at him. A storm is coming and these waters will not be safe for us. The currents are already shifting.

The creature was right, of course. The currents had already begun to buffet him, no longer allowing him to rest as he had been. Soon, even his control over water and the ocean around them would not be enough to keep him safe. He knew others of his kind that had been caught in similarly vicious storms; not all of them had lived to recount their tales afterward.

Sighing, he looked back toward the ship above him once more, watching as it shifted in the currents. There was a possibility that it might not make it through this storm either, and there was no sense in killing himself too when his sister was still out there. He turned back to the sea serpent and met its dark gaze, nodding once before reaching out to grasp one of its silvery spines. It was cool to the touch, even colder than the vicious waters around them.

As the serpent shifted, beginning to arch into a descent further into the depths, Simon looked back once more up at the surface. And that’s when he saw it.

A figure broke the surface, and as it did, something shifted. The currents continued to rage, whipped up into a fury that only time would quell, but the serpent stopped as if it had also sensed the shift. After a moment, as the dark figure plunged further down, Simon realized that it was one of the humans from the ship he had been following.

And, even though his heart froze for a moment at the sight of a human and he wondered if it wouldn’t be better for one of them to die just like so many of his own kind had at their hands, he also realized that this could be the answer to his problem.

The serpent emitted a noise of confusion as he let go and began to swim toward the figure, his tired arms protesting even as his mind raced. The currents tore at him, biting at his skin and catching at his ankles even as he kicked viciously. Above him, the figure sank closer and he realized that it was a man. Below him, the sea serpent had—smartly—disappeared into the safety of the depths.

The man’s skin was clammy when Simon finally grasped him, and he wondered if it was already too late. Humans were such fragile things for what violence and damage they were capable of. He would still have to try anyway though.

Grasping the man’s arms, Simon closed his eyes and blew out harshly, his mind ringing with the exertion of his will against the ocean’s. Around them, the currents calmed and a bubble formed, but beyond it he could feel the ocean beating angrily against his mind. He would only have a few moments then.

In his arms, the man gasped and started coughing, sea water leaving him in great, big heaves that splattered against Simon. He didn’t loosen his grip though.

The man blinked at him, amber colored eyes darting wildly around as he kept gasping for air. His dark hair, turned almost black by the water, was plastered against his pale skin. Simon noticed a dark mark on his left cheek.

“Will you make a deal?” He asked the human, his voice hoarse from weeks of disuse. In his mind, the currents roared angrily at him, demanding to be let in.

“What?” the human gasped out, obviously uncomprehending in his state of shock.

He spoke in a language that Simon wasn’t very familiar with; however, it must have been a language of the sea and those who passed through it if he was able to understand him.

“Will you make a deal?” He repeated, knowing that he was wasting the few precious moments that were left. “If I save you, you must swear an oath to allow me passage upon your ship when I seek you out.”

The man stared at him for a long moment, his brown eyes searching. “Save me. Please.”

“Swear—.”

“I swear that I will allow you passage when you seek me out. I swear it upon the cross of Our Lord and Saviour.” From under his soaked shirt, the man produced a necklace with a pendant in the shape of a cross. He pressed his lips to it and then released it, his hands shaking. The pendant fell against his chest. Simon wasn’t entirely sure who this “Lord” was, but it sounded sincere enough.

In the moment before the walls of his mind could come completely crashing down though, Simon leaned forward and used the edge of his nail to make a thin slice in the other’s palm. The man jerked back, but Simon dabbed the bead of blood onto his own forehead and then did the same to the man’s, smearing the crimson blood against his pale skin.

“The deal has been made,” he swore and around him the currents seemed to calm for a moment as the ocean recognized his oath. The air around them seemed to glow too, lit up with luminescent energy.

Between one moment and the next though, the walls came crashing down and water flooded in. He still had enough strength left though to cup his hand against the man’s mouth and protect him as they surged upward, the ocean reluctantly honoring his end of the deal and allowing him to break the surface with the man in tow.

Above him, the ship was being rocked back and forth in the storm, and voices were yelling desperately. Their words were snatched away by the howling winds before he could hear them though. In his arms, the man was still limp, and Simon’s entire body protested as he swam closer to the ship, tugging him along. A wave pulled them upward, cresting high enough that he could see onto the deck. Figures moved rapidly there, and through the darkness Simon could see them trying to assemble something.

The wave crashed down and it took them with it. He gripped tightly onto the human, praying that the ocean would allow him just a little bit more time to see out his end of the deal.

Another wave caught them, carrying them up even higher than before, and he saw the opportunity that he had been waiting for—a ladder that knocked against the side of the ship. Using what little strength he had left in him, he willed the water around them to carry them alongside the ship, and then he began hoisting the man’s limp weight up onto it. At the same time, he began yelling, hoping to attract the attention of the other humans onboard; it seemed to bring the man back to consciousness as well. He groaned lowly and his fingers tightened around the ladder. Above them, faces appeared over the edge of the ship; voices yelled as there was a flurry of movement and then the ladder began to move up.

Simon stayed in the water, watching and praying that his end of the deal had been sufficiently kept. As hands reached out to pull the man onto the safety of the ship, brown eyes met his and he nodded before diving below the depths. His strength finally left him after that and he allowed himself to be carried far down into the darkness.

Their paths would cross again; the ocean would ensure that.

————

————

Two days later, Simon found himself drifting into port along with the ship. It was a bigger city, and the harbor was full of activity, enough so that Simon went by unnoticed as he stole clothes off of a smaller fisherman’s vessel and changed in the shadow of the docks. While the thin robe he had made from the sail of a shipwreck many months ago was suitable in the water, he knew enough about humans to know that he wouldn’t get very far on land without more clothing.

Simon had a love-hate relationship with humans. When he was younger, he had been fascinated by them, and had spent most of his waking moments near the surface, watching them and wishing so desperately that he could be one. He had spent years slipping onto dry land and wandering various cities across various continents, speaking with all kinds of people and trying different foods. He had trained with masters and slept his way across entire empires, and all the while had ignored his elders’ warnings—until it had been almost too late.

Humans are dangerous, they had always told him. They are fickle and greedy, and will kill us just for a chance to have our powers. Their violence rivals even that of the ocean’s.

He had learned the truth behind these warnings and to stay away eventually, but that still hadn’t been enough to protect him it seemed. With the closest thing to a mother that he had ever had now gone, and his sister having run away, he had come to hate humans more than love them.

However, in order to get his sister back, it seemed as if he would have to interact with them once more though.

Settling the heavy cloak around his shoulders, Simon watched the ship that he had followed into port, noticing two figures who were slowly making their way onto the dock. Quickly, he began to climb, waiting until no footsteps sounded above and then flipping smoothly up onto the solid boards of the dock. His legs stumbled for a moment as he stood there; it had been months since he had last been on land. After a few steps though, he fell into the distantly familiar rhythm of walking again.

Ahead, the two figures began to make their way for the centre of the harbor, and Simon trailed after them at a distance, weaving in and out of the crowd. Around the edges of the pier, there were a few otters resting; when one raised its head to look at him, it was distinctly something else though. He nodded in passing, and the creature nodded back before reclining once more among its pack.

Focusing once more on the figures ahead of him, he noticed one of them glance back, and he shifted the hood of the cloak to ensure his face was shadowed. They wouldn’t recognize him, that he knew; however, it was better to be safe than sorry.

A few minutes later, when they stepped into a tavern—the Seven Stars according to a painted sign hanging above the door—he only hesitated for a moment before following after them over the threshold. Inside, it was dark and smoky, a fire burning in the central fireplace in an attempt to ward off the dampness that permeated the room.

At the bar, stood one of the two men that he had followed, ordering something as the other sat down across the room at one of the few tables near the smudged windows. The one at the bar had tousled hair the color of copper and his skin was fair. The one at the table…well, Simon recognized him. He looked a little better than he had during their last meeting, his chestnut hair now neatly combed and his clothes obviously well-made even though he was trying to hide it. The dark mark was still on his left cheek, along with a few bruises that lined his arms and neck; he must have gotten those during his fall.

Simon pushed back his hood, and from across the tavern, their eyes met. Eyes the color of unpolished Baltic amber widened in recognition and the man jolted in surprise, knocking the rickety table with his knee and causing it to rattle. The other man returned from the bar at that moment, holding two mugs and they spoke lowly for a few minutes. Those brown eyes kept glancing back at him; Simon just kept staring.

Eventually, the man stood up and came over to the table that Simon had taken up residence at. Behind him, the copper headed one watched them warily; however, he didn’t move from their spot by the window.

“Have we met?” the man asked once he had gotten closer to Simon’s table. He didn’t sit down. He had also spoken in perfect English, only a faint accent lingering in the corners of his question.

Simon tilted his head, wondering if the man truly didn’t remember or if he was bluffing in an attempt to worm his way out of their deal. Oaths were dangerous things to try and avoid though; he hoped that the human realized that. Their eyes met again, and baltic amber searched his own dark gaze for a long moment until the man nodded, seemingly to himself.

“We made a deal,” Simon finally said after a moment in the language he remembered the other man using under the waves. His voice was still slightly hoarse. “I honored my side. Do you intend to honor yours?”

The man’s hand clenched at the words, and Simon caught the edge of a thin, pink scar on the inside of it. He did remember then. Maybe the cut smarting as a reminder of what he had promised; oaths sworn under the power of the ocean always did sting a little more than others, as if there was always saltwater in the wound that never truly left.

“The deal is the deal,” the human said after a moment in his native tongue, before looking over his shoulder at the one he had come there with and gesturing with his head. Then, he pulled out the chair across the table and settled into it. “May I at least ask your name and reason for requesting passage aboard our ship?”

It was asked politely, but there was an undercurrent of warning to it. He obviously wanted to know what kind of danger he may have been about to bring aboard.

Simon weighed his answer carefully, playing with the words in his mind before releasing them. Names had power after all in his world. “Simon, and I am…searching for my sister.”

The man eyed him carefully with those mesmerizing eyes, and then nodded before holding out his hand. On his finger rest a broad ring that bore a symbol that Simon didn’t recognize. “Wilhelm, Captain of the Sankta Lucia.”

The copper-headed man appeared beside their table at that moment, frowning as he glanced back and forth between them. His eyes were a dark blue that reminded Simon of a stormy ocean not unlike the one from only two nights ago.

“Well?” he asked, voice carrying that same polished tone that the man across from him spoke with too.

“Henry, Simon will be joining us aboard the Sankta Lucia.”

The copper-headed man—Henry, apparently—eyed Simon warily and he looked back at him steadily despite his racing heart. After a moment, he stuck his hand out and Simon took it cautiously. Why did humans always want to shake hands?

“First Officer Henry Rosenblad,” he said, more formal than the other man had been. His eyes were hard and it was clear that he didn’t trust Simon any more than Simon trusted either of them. When they shook hands, it was with a firmness that tested both of them.

———

The ship boards creaked beneath his feet as Simon stepped aboard. It had been quite some time since he was last on a ship.

Beneath him, he could feel the ocean thrumming with power, the water calling to him with a voice almost as sweet as he remembered his mother’s being. What was also present though was that fading other scent that had become entwined with Sara’s the farther he had followed her trail. She had been here at some point.

Stepping up to the railing, Simon gripped the wood and watched the horizon. His sister was out there, and he intended to find her.

[pysankywrites-updates]

help I’ve fallen hard for someone who speaks Spanish and now I understand TOO WELL the headcanon of wille short circuiting whenever Simon speaks Spanish. this got me out here being a damn fool😭

[pysankywrites-updates]

i want to write a crack fic of wille and henry being (international student) frat bros and simon being wille’s cool ass dj/musician boyfriend and henry and walter being little gay disasters…but alas i have no motivation and a million other things to do🫠

[pysankywrites-updates]

henry is so brat

[pysankywrites-updates]

a few snippets to prove i’m still alive and working on things😭

Rowing comp fic (third-year-things):

Wilhelm was obviously unhappy during rowing practice, having been relegated to a chair in the literal corner while watching the rest of them run drills. At the start of practice, he had tried to join in; however, every single person on the team had quickly vetoed this and Simon’s stern look in his direction had apparently been enough to make him sit his ass right back down.

Now though, there was a frown on his face and his arms were crossed as he sat there, looking bored out of his mind. The only thing saving him from complete boredom was the whistle around his neck, which he was using liberally. It was mostly to correct the first-years, but after the sixth time in ten minutes, Simon was this close to ripping that whistle right out of his mouth. Walter and Henry both looked the same.

“If he blows that whistle one more time…,” Henry muttered under his breath. Simon didn’t hear the rest of what he said, but he didn’t need to. The other’s tone was enough explanation.

For the first time in a while, Walter agreed with him and for just a few minutes they were back in sync like they used to be.

Simon glanced over at his boyfriend to find the other running a hand over his face and then through his hair, messing it up. He looked frustrated and Simon knew it was driving him crazy to not be able to participate. He couldn’t help but think back to first-year Wilhelm who was sometimes more than happy to avoid practice if he could.

Practice ended not long after that, with Wilhelm only having blown the whistle two more times. Each time, Henry had twitched, his hands wrapping more tightly around the ERG handle until his knuckles were white. Walter simply had his eyes closed, forehead resting on his knees.

Everyone was quick to retreat to the locker room, obviously trying to escape from under Wilhelm’s tyranny with the whistle, until it was just him and Simon left in the gym.

“Having fun?” Simon asked drily, using the hem of his t-shirt to wipe the sweat off of his brow. Wilhelm gave him a look back, fiddling with the whistle. When he raised it up to his lips, Simon reached out with a dry laugh and snatched it away. “Yeah, no, I’m confiscating this, you tyrant.”

“How dare you? I’m stuck here in a chair, unable to do anything except rot and you would take away the one thing that has brought me joy—.”

Simon put the whistle in his own mouth and blew it, cutting the other off and then arching a brow at him in response to the mock affronted look sent his way. Then, only because there was no one else in the gym except for them, he pulled the whistle out of his mouth and said quietly, “I can think of a better way for you to use your mouth.”

Wilhelm looked back at him, eyes like honey. “Yeah?”

Simon nodded, his lips curling in the corners. He fiddled with the whistle. “Yeah.”

the (eventual) Walty fic (third-year-things):

The flame of the lighter flickered as Henry held it up, waving it beneath the end of the joint where it was held between his lips. After it eventually caught and the tip began to burn a dark orange, he inhaled deeply, the smoke burning his throat slightly.

“What are you thinking about?” Walter asked from where he sat beside him, watching and waiting for Henry to pass over the now-lit joint.

They had enough to each have their own, but Henry had always (selfishly) asked if they could just share one. At first, it had been because he wanted to keep as much as he could (and because he hadn’t been taught to share as a child if they were being honest), but then it had become because he wanted to keep Walter as close as he could. It was more intimate too in a way, passing the joint back and forth and even sharing kisses in between sometimes when no one was really around or when everyone else was too drunk to think much about it.

Tonight, they were alone though, sitting out on the rickety fire-escape of Forest Ridge and pretending that the rest of the world didn’t exist for a little while.

“That you have something in your hair,” was Henry’s answer to the question after exhaling and passing the joint over.

Walter’s hand flew up to run through his dark brown hair, and when he came away with nothing, he gave him an unamused look. “Really, Henry?”

He grinned at him and then leaned closer to run his fingers through his best friend’s hair, fixing some strands and displacing others. Walter’s hair was one of his favorite things ever. It was so soft and it always felt so good whenever he got to run his fingers through it.

“Honestly, I was really just thinking about whether or not Wille and Simon are in their room right now,” he admitted after a moment, still running his fingers through the other’s hair.

Walter coughed. “Why?”

“Because Simon keeps that closet stocked with snacks.”

This time, Walter sounded amused. “There’s no way you’re already hungry.”

Playfully, Henry shoved him and the other swayed away only to sway right back into him. Walter’s head settled gently on Henry’s shoulder, a careful weight even as the other leaned against him heavily. It was cautious and yet comfortable at the same time, probably because they were both so used to having to hide affection like this.

Clearing his throat and taking the joint back from the other, he said, “I’m always hungry.”

Walter hummed into the silence and Henry just inhaled deeply, staring out into the darkness of the late summer night around them.

Neither of them said anything more on the matter, but his mind played the words over and over. It was true. He was always hungry, but normally it was for the affection that Walter so easily showed him when they were alone or within the safety of their friend group. He was always hungry for the soft way the other smiled, the way that he cared for him, the way that he…. Just, the way that he was, the way that the two of them worked together so well. The way that Walter just understood.

Walter turned his head to face him, wide dark eyes looking up at him as he silently asked to take a hit, and it felt like the most natural thing in the world to lean down and kiss him as he handed the joint over. The other’s lips were soft, slightly chapped like they always were from the way he anxiously chewed at them and never put on chapstick no matter how much Henry left lying around their room for him. They felt like heaven, but maybe that was just the weed speaking.

“Do you think Simon still has some of those crisps that he got from Bjärstad last time?” was the first thing his best friend asked him when they pulled apart and Henry smiled down at him, taking a hit from the joint and carefully blowing the smoke off to the side.

Pushing himself to his feet, he swayed slightly and the two of them broke out into giggles, the weed obviously finally starting to take effect and god, he wished he could capture the way that Walter’s eyes were shining as he looked up at him from where he still sat, legs dangling over the edge of the fire escape.

Stubbing the joint out on the railing and tucking it behind his ear, Henry held out both hands. “Let’s go see.”

Walter smiled up at him as he took both hands in his.

ineffable (that random good omens au):

Squinting up at the darkening sky, Wilhelm considered the clouds and decided that he already wasn’t a fan of this new thing called “rain” that the Almighty had decided to try out. Nothing against the Almighty of course, they could never do anything wrong. He just had a feeling about this, and it wasn’t necessarily a good one.

Mostly because he felt like it was going to end with his wings getting wet, and they were always such a pain to deal with when wet.

“Well, that didn’t go as planned.”

Releasing his lip from where he’d started to anxiously chew at it, Wilhelm turned around to find the snake from earlier standing beside him. Or, well, it had been a snake, now it was a demon.

Caught slightly off-guard, Wilhelm coughed. “Excuse me?”

The demon looked over at him, golden eyes curious. On his right temple, there was the small tattoo of a serpent, but it was almost completely hidden by his mess of dark curls. The twist of his lips into a small frown pulled Wilhelm’s attention away from the tattoo though, and when he sighed Wilhelm couldn’t get the sound out of his head.

“I said that that didn’t exactly go as planned.” The demon gestured vaguely toward the garden behind them. “In fact, it went down like a lead balloon.”

Wilhelm stared at him. “What do you mean? Weren’t you supposed to tempt them?”

The demon shrugged, all loose, casual lines. “I mean, yeah, but I really just wanted an orange. How was I supposed to know that there wouldn’t be any oranges here, in a garden, and just forbidden apples apparently?”

Wilhelm blinked and kept staring at him.

The demon flushed. “I mean, come on, it’s a garden. It’s, like, the garden. Is it too much to ask for an orange? It’s not as if they have them in Hell.”

This last part was muttered quietly, as if the other didn’t want him to hear it, and Wilhelm felt a pang of sympathy go through him. He quickly squashed it though. Feelings like that had almost gotten him in serious trouble last time and he didn’t want Kristina, or Erik, or even August to be on his ass about that again.

So, clearing his throat, he said, “Well, you still tempted them either way.”

The demon gave him a look, raising one of his perfect brows as he did so. “You know, I don’t see why it’s so bad to know the difference between good and evil. I mean, shouldn’t we be sharing that, not keeping it to ourselves?”

Damn, he really had a point. Wilhelm still had to keep up appearances though.

“Well, it must be bad…”

“Simon,” the demon supplied helpfully, lips quirking up slightly in the corners. Wilhelm’s brain immediately saved that to memory even though he insisted that it not do so.

“...Simon,” he added slowly, turning the name over in his mouth. “Otherwise, you wouldn’t have tempted them into it.”

Simon sighed, rolling his golden eyes. “Ugh, I told you, I just wanted an orange. Really, it’s the Almighty’s fault for not putting any orange trees in here.”

Wilhelm started to hum in agreement and then quickly pinched himself and shook his head.

“I mean,” the demon continued, “it’s not very subtle, is it? Why not put the tree up on a high mountain? Or even on the moon?”

Damn it, yet another good point. Wait, shit, was this what being tempted felt like? (Of course he would manage to not only be the angel who failed at protecting the garden but was also the first to be tempted after the Fall. August would have a fucking field day with this if he ever found out.)

“It makes you wonder what God’s really planning,” the demon said, giving him a look.

Wilhelm fidgeted anxiously and started chewing at his lip. “It’s probably best not to speculate. After all, it’s all a part of the Great Plan. We’re not meant to understand it. It’s…” what was that word that Kristina always used when droning on and on about the Almighty’s plan? Ah yes, “ineffable.”

Simon raised both of his perfectly shaped brows at him. “Ineffable?”

“Yes.” He rubbed a hand against his chest. “It’s beyond our understanding and—.”

“Didn’t you have a flaming sword earlier?”

Wilhelm flushed deeply, stammering, “Uh….”

“You did, it was all big and…bright. Did you already lose it?”

God, this was the worst. If this demon had already noticed in five minutes, then Erik was going to notice immediately when he saw him later.

“I gave it away,” he muttered under his breath, rubbing at his chest anxiously and squinting once more up at the dark clouds above them. He was pretty sure that they had gotten closer.

“You did what?” Simon asked, sounding almost delighted. Wilhelm resisted the urge to shoot him a dirty glare, simply because that wouldn’t be very holy and angelic of him to do. And that’s what he was: holy and angelic. Supposedly.

“I gave it away,” he said a little bit more loudly this time, rubbing at his chest harder and then running a hand through his hair as he gestured widely at the desert beyond the walls. “There are vicious animals and it’s cold! So, you know, I said, ‘Here, flaming sword. Don’t thank me. Bye.’”

A moment later, thinking about Erik’s inevitable disappointed look when he saw that he’d lost his sword, he added quietly, “I hope that I didn’t do the wrong thing.”

Beside him, Simon scoffed. “You’re an angel. I don’t think you can do the wrong thing.”

Maybe it was meant to be reassuring, but Wilhelm didn’t exactly feel reassured. Especially not when the other added, “Now you’ve got me wondering though if I did the right thing, tempting them with the apple and whatnot. Demons aren’t supposed to do the right thing.”

Wilhelm chewed at his lip and glanced over to find Simon watching him, golden eyes considering. There was a dry smile on his face.

“It’d be funny, wouldn’t it? If I did the right thing, and you did the wrong thing?”

Despite it all, Wilhelm felt his lips curl into a smile as he laughed. Across from him, Simon started laughing too and the sound was unlike anything that he had ever heard before. The moment didn’t last long though, not when Wilhelm realized that that probably wouldn’t be funny at all; however, the humor still lingered between them even as it started to rain and he noticed Simon shivering slightly as the cold drops hit the two of them.

Taking one look at the other’s tattered dark wings, Wilhelm immediately decided that it didn’t matter if his wings got wet and he extended one out over Simon’s head to shield him from the worst of it. After all, his wings would always dry back out eventually.

cerebrum, chapter 7:

Despite the constant reminders from their friends, the bachelor parties and the literal invitation sitting on their kitchen counter, Henry and Walter’s wedding still somehow managed to sneak up on Simon. It didn’t even feel real until he was at the venue that their friends had chosen, sitting in the crowd and waiting for the ceremony to start.

“There you are.”

He glanced up to find Maja and Erik, as well as Wilhelm’s parents, settling into the seats saved beside him. They had all been invited to the wedding too; however, the kids had obviously stayed at home. He tried not to feel disappointed at this.

“How are you?” Maja asked, leaning over to squeeze his hand. It felt somewhat forced and he tried not to pull away.

Since that disastrous dinner a month ago, things had been awkward between himself and Wilhelm’s family. None of them had ever really talked about what happened, the others pretending as if nothing happened and Simon being too afraid of upsetting the careful balance between him and Wilhelm to push the issue. Unsurprisingly though, Maja had pulled away slightly and Erik had become a bit more guarded when they spoke. Kristina was about the same as ever though.

He hated it, but he also hated the way that they had pushed him out.

For Wilhelm’s sake though, he had agreed to sit with them during the wedding rather than sitting with Felice or Madison. After a few minutes of awkward, stilted conversation though, he wondered if it would have just been better for everyone had he sat with someone else.

He didn’t have too long to regret this decision though, before the music started and they were all standing to turn and face the central aisle.

Alexander, Walter’s best man, walked down it first. Following him was Wilhelm.

At the sight of his partner, dressed in the groomsmen suit chosen by Henry, Simon felt his breath catch slightly. He had seen him earlier of course, when they were getting dressed back at the apartment, but it was something about seeing him in this setting. It made his throat ache, emotions clawing at his chest and leaving him feeling wrung out.

Beside him, he could feel Erik watching him, but he didn’t give the other the satisfaction of looking over at him. If he did, then the older might see the way that heat had begun to build behind Simon’s eyes and was threatening to spill over the edges even though he knew that it wouldn’t.

Henry and Walter followed shortly after that, arm in arm and both looking incredibly overwhelmed despite the smiles on their faces. Simon knew that they were both likely incredibly hungover from their bachelor parties; however, they were managing to hide it well.

The ceremony was short and sweet. He didn’t hear much of it though, almost all of his attention devoted to where Wilhelm stood near Henry.

The other was smiling faintly as he watched his best friend go through the vows with Walter. There was loss in his expression too though, hidden in the corners of his expression, and Simon felt his own heart ache with the familiarity of the feeling. It was the same one that had settled over him earlier and was clawing at his throat, leaving him feeling choked up and unable to breathe.

He was beginning to wonder if he would ever breathe normally again when cheers went up all around them. At the front, Henry and Walter were kissing, both of them obviously smiling. They were still smiling when they pulled apart a moment later, Walter cupping Henry’s face so gently that it almost made Simon want to look away. (Jealousy and loss in equal turns left his throat raw after that.)

They led the procession out this time, holding hands and smiling giddily over at each other as they passed by the rows. Wilhelm was smiling too as he followed after the two newlyweds and their eyes found each other as he passed by Simon’s row. It felt like a moment and forever passed in those few seconds, like everything was both once how it was and also their new normal now too.

Simon blinked and the other had already passed by, almost to the end of the rows and following Henry and Walter out. He watched him go and tried to remember how to breathe again.

“That was absolutely beautiful,” Maja said from beside him after a moment. She was smiling brightly when he glanced over at her. Erik was nodding in agreement, smiling as well.

It took him a long time to find his voice—probably too long, but he didn’t care at this point anymore—before he nodded and said, “Yeah. Absolutely.”

Somehow, he managed to keep his voice steady. Even his smile didn’t feel too forced after a moment.

[pysankywrites-updates]

anyone know how to beat writer’s block? cause i have like 5 wips and zero (0) motivation work on them🫠

[pysankywrites-updates]

okay okay hear me out though

1700s au where wilhelm is still the second prince and simon is a musical prodigy that turns the royal court completely upside down and they both bring about a revolution. historical drama anyone?👀

[pysankywrites-updates]

hope you all are ready for Simon, the demon who sauntered vaguely downward, and Wilhelm, Heaven’s least angelic angel 🙈👀

do I have a million wips? Yes. Am I thinking of starting a new one? Also yes. So…

[pysankywrites-updates]

do I have a million wips? Yes. Am I thinking of starting a new one? Also yes. So…

[pysankywrites-updates]

Hi there! Hope you’re doing well 💜

I’ve just found you here! I just wanted to say I really enjoy reading your fics. The third year series is incredible. I made a post about my favourite writers in AO3 and I couldn’t tag you since I didn’t know you had tumblr. So yes, this is me basically rambling about your amazing work.

Hope you liked season 3, take care! 💜

thank you🫶🫶🫶

[pysankywrites-updates]

What about third year things? 😍🫶🏻

I am planning to finish that, but it’ll be kind of awkward since it’s completely AU now😅

[pysankywrites-updates]

so… I may or may not have been working on something lately👀

snippet: cerebrum — chapter six

Simon’s shift passed by in a blur, and maybe that should have been concerning (no, it definitely was concerning); however, he was too numb for it to bother him too much. Honestly, if anything, he was grateful for it.

One moment he was standing at the nurse’s station, reviewing files as Malin rattled off stats and names to him that didn’t even register; then, he blinked and he was standing in front of the hospital vending machine instead, preferring that over going to the cafeteria and being forced to think about that empty seat beside him while Felice or whoever was sitting with him looked on in poorly-concealed pity. After that, he’d found himself snapping gloves on and absently wondering if Wilhelm had managed to fall asleep in their bed tonight or if he’d had to lay on the sofa again with the tv playing until he finally fell asleep from exhaustion. He wondered if he’d even been able to fall asleep.

Then, once more, he blinked and he was standing in front of their apartment, forehead pressed against the door and eyes closed as he took a moment to breathe. (He couldn’t remember the last time he breathed.)

When he eventually walked in, the TV was playing and Wilhelm was asleep on the sofa, curled up and mostly hidden by the blanket wrapped around him. Unable to help himself, Simon paused and simply looked at the other.

It would be so easy to pretend that nothing was wrong, that nothing had changed. Sometimes, before, Wilhelm had fallen asleep waiting for Simon to get home, wrapped up in a blanket much like how he was now and the TV would still be playing at a low volume. He would always wake up at the sound of Simon coming in though, shifting sleepily on the sofa and blinking up at him with a small smile whenever Simon tiredly came over to stand beside where he lay and pressed a kiss to the top of his head.

It would be so easy to pretend. But Simon didn’t let himself, if only because it would just hurt so much more when the illusion was eventually shattered.

He allowed himself another moment to simply look though, before sighing and slipping his shoes off. After that, he softly padded into the kitchen and was in the middle of pouring himself a glass of water when arms tentatively wrapped around his waist and Wilhelm pressed his face into the crook of Simon’s neck.

Surprised despite his tiredness, Simon was almost afraid to move for fear of somehow spooking the other. So, he stood there, breathing shallowly and wondering if maybe he had fallen asleep on the train back home and this was all just a dream. If so, then a small part of him didn’t want to wake up.

“Hey,” his boyfriend whispered against his skin, sounding still half-asleep and slurring the words slightly.

“Hi.” Simon wasn’t actually sure whether the word left his mouth or not.

Neither of them said anything else for a long time after that, Wilhelm leaning heavily against him and Simon standing braced against the kitchen counter. He didn’t want to move for fear of shattering this moment.

Eventually, the other drew away though and immediately the absence made him feel cold. He was too tired to ask for the other back though.

“You should sleep,” Wilhelm whispered after a moment, pressing a kiss to his temple and then stepping back as Simon turned around to face him.

Standing there and staring at the other in the dim kitchen light, Simon wanted to ask so many things. He wanted to ask for the touch back, for the love, for his partner. The words choked his throat though, refusing to come undone and escape out through his mouth.

So, eventually, all that came out was a quiet, “Come to bed with me?”

In the dim light, drowsiness had left Wilhelm’s expression more open than it had been in weeks. What Simon saw there was a confusing mix of softness and conflict and fatigue. It felt almost like staring at a reflection of himself.

“Yeah…Simme,” his boyfriend eventually said, rubbing a hand across his face and then reaching out to take Simon’s hand. Their fingers tangled together almost out of muscle memory and Simon felt something warm in his chest begin to spread. The numbness receded a little.