#THIS LIFE IS MORE VIBRANT FOR THE ONES WHO FIND THE LIGHT TO SHINE THROUGH!!!!

[everysongineverykey]

difficult to explain the emotions the stupendium's shine through evokes in me but suffice to say. wough💙

[dragonbarbie]

𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐎𝐍

aemond targaryen x prostitute!reader

rating: 18+, minors dni

summary: aemond becomes captivated with the most prized woman working the street of silk

word count: 3.3k

tags: mature content, sex work, choking, aemond being a tad bit dark here but still in character imo

aemond had scoffed at aegon’s penchant for the whores of the street of silk, but when he found himself attracted to one of its prized attractions, he felt like a hypocrite.

he had caught a glimpse of her the day he had gone searching for his brother with ser criston. aemond had stood by the door while cole conversed with the madame of the establishment and been momentarily distracted by the sight of the angel walking down the hallway inside the brothel, visible behind the older woman.

that day he could not stay to investigate as his duties called him away. but as the days went on, he found himself obsessed with the face he had only seen for a split second, and the delicate form barely hidden behind the flowy dress of silk that had stalked down that hall.

he had always imagined himself as a dutiful man, a man who lived his life in accordance with the code of honour that cole hammered into him with each sparring session, and with the faith that his mother had guided him towards. but with every dream he had about her, he found his resolve towards being that dutiful man, weaken.

those eyes, damn those eyes. there was something hypnotic about them, about the way she had kohl spread under them to make them look even more seductive. her skin, it had a shine, despite the lack of light inside the building.

she tortured him every night, invading his dreams without care. he would chase her each night, and she still seemed to elude him come morning.

until he had had enough. he donned a non-descript cloak to walk through the streets unrecognised, and walked till he reached the same brothel his brother had taken him to all those years ago. it looked much different in the dark, the doors were flung open invitingly for one. when aemond walked through them, he saw that it was teeming with people. men being led down by scantily clad women to areas sectioned off by thin veils of linen, women openly being pleasured by men upon cushions laid down on the ground. he could even recognise some lords from his father’s court, but as his mind began to judge them for their presence a voice in his head reminded him that he wasn’t much better than them, for finding himself skulking around these halls.

but among all those faces, he couldn’t see her. the thought that she might be off pleasuring some man in one of these corners crossed his mind, and he had the urge to storm out of there. but just then, he was recognised by the same whore his brother had chosen for him all those years ago. “my prince, i am delighted to have you grace my establishment once again.” her smile seemed more seedy to him than gracious. “hm.” he merely hummed in response, eye still looking around for her specific figure. “would you like to see the selection of pleasures that we can provide you with this evening, or…” she looked around to where he had been scanning the room, “…are you seeking someone more particular?”

how was aemond supposed to explain her, to this woman? he had no name, only a vibrant memory in his mind. thankfully, he didn’t need to. because suddenly a hush fell around the proceedings, and all eyes turned to the centre of the room where upon a slightly raised platform, he saw her. it seemed as if this was a performance that had been expected by the patrons eagerly.

the musicians then began playing their instruments to match the beat at which she was moving her body as she danced. slowly at first, every movement of her hands deliberate. her waist, exposed in the dress she was wearing, showed off its curves with the way it swayed. and those damn eyes. who needed wine when those eyes were intoxicating enough to beat any dornish red. the older whore hadn’t missed how his eye hadn’t left her. “ah, y/n… she’s our jewel that one….the finest you can get anywhere in the street of silk. the opportunity for even one night with her is sold out moons in advance.” “i don’t have moons to waste, and i am not a particularly patient man. money is no object.” he stated, his voice dangerously low as his eye closely followed each seductive step. “of course, my prince.” the older woman seemed to grin at the thought of the sheer gold that she would be able to get out of the prince.

aemond hadn’t even realised that his mouth had gone dry watching her until she finished with applause surrounding her, and men throwing coins at her feet. there was a proud smile upon her face as she picked the silver and tucked them somewhere inside her silk skirt. Men were approaching her already. she gave them a smile, as she apologised, “my lords i am promised to lord frey for tonight, alas.” he caught her words, his eye darting to where he had recognised frey sitting on the cushion earlier in the night. he was looking at her with unabashed lust in his eyes already, a look which lit an inexplicable fire inside the prince.

“my lord, i’m afraid y/n already has another patron for tonight. let me show you some of our other girls, i don’t think you will be disappointed.” aemond heard the madame placate frey as she walked towards him, but he was not pleased. “i have waited for days, and paid good coin for the whore, and i will have her!” he angrily proclaimed, and aemond saw y/n give her madame a confused look. as far as she knew, she only had one customer for the night, and frey had already paid in full. frey walked over to y/n and grabbed her arm, intent on taking her by force if nothing else. that was the point aemond decided to intervene.

“my lord frey.” he did not have to raise his voice beyond its normal volume, its distinctness coupled with him removing the hood to reveal his silver hair and eye-patch were enough to confirm his identity. “i believe you should look for other arrangements for the night.” he could hear the whispers around the room, the shock on everyone’s faces, including y/n’s. frey immediately let go of her, and bowed, “my prince… of course, yes…” he seemed to mutter.

so that was the new customer, y/n realised, taking in the man before her. she had never seen him around the brothel before, but she had heard from the older girls of the day the two royal princes had visited. and even more tales about the seedier activities his brother got up to at flea bottom. she wasn’t sure having the attention of the targaryen was an entirely good thing, as she thought of his brother. but with her profession, and her station, she knew one could not just refuse a prince of the realm.

she put on the sultry smile expected of her, “my prince.” she greeted as she approached him. “y/n, take his grace to your rooms. and take good care of him.” she caught the look in her madame’s eye, it seemed to read ‘tread carefully’.

had it been a different patron, y/n would have taken their hand as she led them up the stairs to her room, a luxury that was of the upmost rarity in the street of silk but that she had managed to accomplish with her revered skills. but the prince seemed so stoic, she couldn’t bring herself to reach out and hold his hand. “follow me, my prince.” she said instead and walked him up to her room.

aemond noticed that it was a small place, filled with only a bed in the centre and some cushions to the side of it near an open window. lit candles littered the corners, to shed some light for the work of the night, he realised. the sheets seemed to be made of fine material for the consideration of the noble men she brough up there, but the rest of the room was bare. then again, he thought, what items had he expected to find in the room of a whore? not that he’d ever imagined being inside one’s chambers anyway.

now that he’d come to think of it, he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do now, he hadn’t exactly thought that far ahead. she seemed to pick up on how awkward he felt internally, even if he had kept his cool appearance.

“would you like some wine, my prince?” “no.” “i only offer because it tends to make one more… relaxed, for the proceedings.” she suggested, trying to put him more at ease. her words had the opposite effect. “are you suggesting i need wine to be able to fuck?” he accused her, offended as he took threatening steps towards her. used to placating customers who could turn on her at a moment’s notice, she kept her open palms reassuringly against his chest and told him, “i was suggesting it for myself, your grace. a woman’s heart, it’s a weak thing.” she had expected him to believe her words, batting heavy eyelashes to appear as pliant as possible.

his blue eye, it seemed to have the ability to read her. he chuckled darkly, “you’re a good liar.” and an unexpected, large hand reached to grab her throat. his hold was rough, but she could still breath and she refused to look away or struggle against his grip. she had learned that the best way to pacify these great men was to let them have the power over her that they so craved. she was surprised though, for no one had been able to look through her so quickly and easily, in all her years.

her lack of putting up a fight seemed to satisfy him, but at the same time, he couldn’t understand how she could lack the basic need to preserve herself. he tightened his grip further and further, testing her. yet, her hands remained limp by her side and her eyes trained on his. when he finally pulled his hand off her, it was only the coughs that left her and the red marks of his hand printed around her neck that could evidence the pain she must have felt, but not acted against.

he picked the goblet and poured from the wine jug kept in the corner, to hand it to her for the cough, wordlessly. she eagerly grabbed the cup and downed its contents to provide some relief to her throat. “why did you not struggle? do you enjoy pain?” he asked, curious. her fingertips rubbed against the skin where his hand had been moments ago, as she answered, “in my trade, you learn quickly to endure pain. to fight against it usually means something worse will befall.” she answered, her voice still coarse.

“then why choose it? you can earn a wage as a serving girl, a maid…” he looked at the bed in her room and couldn’t help but think just how many men before him must have pushed her against it and had their way “…why suffer such indignity?”

she was surprised at his question. some men did like to talk to her before they had her, but she had never been asked such intrusive questions about herself. “there are many reasons, every girl here has her story. i have mine.” never talk about your own woes with a client, she had been taught. it would break the spell, the fantasy if they thought of her as a living, breathing thing, as opposed to a doll only meant to please them. that was what she was attempting to do, but her answer did not satiate him. “and that story is?” “not one i care to share with your grace. i do not need your pity, i promise you. i’m paid ten times more than any serving girl at your grand castle, and all my work is done lying on my back. i am content.”

aemond could see the logic there, but he seemed unconvinced. she seemed to be in a hurry to move past the conversation. “is this how you would like to spend your night, asking me questions? i have no qualms, but you are paying quiet the small fortune for it, and i would not want you to feel as if i have robbed you.”

“since i am the one paying, why don’t you let me be the judge of what we are going to do.” y/n shrugged in response, “whatever you wish, my prince. i am but your humble servant.” she had a small, amused smile on her lips as she sat down on the edge of her bed. “ask whatever you like.” and he did.

once she got used to the invasive questioning, she settled in his presence. she found him polite but straight forward, proud but intelligent. he was unlike any man she had met. he seemed to be full of questions about who y/n was, where was she from and how she had ended up in a place like this. all questions that she patiently answered as she drank more wine by the hour. it was not common behaviour of a patron, to ask about her so insistently. even when the men wanted to talk, it was usually them talking about themselves, their problems and y/n sitting there patiently to listen. but every time she tried to ask the prince a question in return, he brushed her off or gave her short replies.

“why did you decide to come here today?” she asked him at one point. he had settled on one of her cushions a few meters away, but he never really looked comfortable, choosing to sit with his back straight as steel. his discipline was admirable, y/n thought. “you’re not known to frequent the street of silk, or i would have heard of it.” or i would have had you already, she thought, she was the most sought-after woman on the street after all. “your visit is most unusual.”

aemond swallowed at the question, “every man has needs.” it wasn’t a complete lie. he had come there because of a need to see her, to be near her, to touch her. “had you come here to fulfil some ‘need’, we would not have spent the night merely talking.” she commented. oh, he had meant to do much more than just talk, from the second he saw her dancing downstairs. she had captivated him, with the way her body had moved and set his imagination to wonder all the ways in which it would move against his.

but first, he had wanted to quench his curiosity about her. he hadn’t realised when he got so lost in their conversation that it was nearly daybreak, and he was yet to fuck her. every time he had thought to move in and close the gap between them, she had made some clever comment that he had to give a retort to, and so the night had passed.

“it’s a shame.” y/n sighed as she laid back down on her bed, “when you walked in here, i thought i would have the story to beat any other girl’s. the story of the night i rode a dragon.” she lazily smirked.

oh, she was a minx, he grinned as a hand grabbed her ankle to pull her down towards him. she yelped at the action but allowed him to snake an arm around her waist to seat her at his lap. “is that a desire of yours?” he asked in a murmur, close enough to feel her breath on his face. “i’m a whore, my prince, i cannot afford such luxuries as desires.” she draped her arms over his shoulders, fingers entangling themselves in his silky hair. “as your prince, i command you – tell me what you desire.”

she had lost count of the number of times men had asked her that question, the number of times they wanted her to tell them that she needed them, desired them. she had complied each time of course but had never really meant the words. as she gazed into the clear blue of the prince’s eye, though, she answered with the utmost sincerity, “you.”

he didn’t need more words, he leaned forward and closed the gap between them, his lips upon hers. there was a hunger in his actions, a desire to push in as further inside her as he could, of wanting to be one with her. she reciprocated the sense of passion, hands reaching to undo the buttons on his leather coat.

soon he had her pinned beneath him on the cushions, his coat and tunic discarded, her flimsy dress pushed up, so her bare core rubbed against his leather pants. he hadn’t objected to her removing other items of his clothing, but when her hand reached to pull off his eye patch, he broke the kiss and grabbed her wrist firmly.

when she had told him she desired him, he hadn’t taken her to mean it in a physical sense. For, how could she, he thought, with an eye missing and an ugly scar running down half his face? where she was a goddess reborn that men paid their weight in gold to be able to pay a pilgrimage to, he thought himself deformed.

as with many things, with this too it seemed she could read his mind. a crease formed between her brow, “this is a whore house, your grace. the price of admission is all your clothing.” she teased. her free hand reached to caress his face. gods, he was beautiful, she now understood why they said targaryens were closer to gods than men, for with the first rays of the sun hitting him to form a halo over his form, how could this man be anything else but heaven-sent? 

“i would see all of you.” she softly told him. he hesitated, but there was a conviction in her eyes that he could not deny. he eventually let go of her wrist, but she could feel how uneasy he felt as she slowly pulled the eye-patch off his face.

her eyes went wide at the sight of the blue sapphire she had heard only rumours of. it dazzled with brilliance, and almost matched the colour of his remaining eye. her hand caressed the side of his face, thumb tracing the scar before she pressed a soft kiss to the healed skin. “i wasn’t aware whores were supposed to be this… sentimental.” he mused at her actions, “you’re a special customer.” she grinned. “let’s see how good this service of yours is then, hm, that you can afford to rob all these lords blind.”

and service him she did, with a steady chant of her voice saying ‘my prince’ filling the room. she heard him whisper things too, against her skin in a language she couldn’t understand, but his voice was filled with a devotion she could recognise.

hours passed, till she could no longer feel her legs, and beads of sweat had formed on her forehead. she felt sore, but in the most perfect way. the day had set in now, the rays of the sun making her room shine bright as she laid with her head on his chest, legs tangled. she could feel his fingers tracing shapes on her bare back. it seemed like the perfect morning.

until he broke the spell with his voice, “i have to go.” he had only just realised the time, realised that he was late for cole’s training. as he shifted to get up from under her, she whined at the loss of touch but wordlessly watched him gather his things. “will you visit again?” she asked as he walked out the door, but it seemed he hadn’t heard her.

she lazed around until a some of the younger girls entered her room, excited to hear all about y/n’s night with the prince, brimming with questions. “oh, how i can explain to you, my darlings, the pleasures of riding a dragon.”

note: by the time i finished this i had sm muse im thinking of doing a pt 2 w an angry and jealous aemond, when reader is entertaining other clients?? lmk if you guys would be interested in something like that 👀

update: part 2 available now!

[aritsukemo]

Insecurity | Kazutora H.

Character: Kazutora Hanemiya

A/N: Baby needs a hug and I'm willing to give him one.

The moon shone brightly. It's luminescent rays shining down on the earth and slipping through the crack of the black curtains, creating a singular light that illuminates the bed in a similar fashion. Aside from this, the room is mostly shrouded in darkness, hiding the lush furniture in its shadows. Among this dimness, a phone shines brightly, it's reflection burning it's shape into sandy-colored eyes as a callous fingertip swipes endlessly at the screen..

"( Stage Name )'s outfit looked amazing tonight! 😍"

"Who's the dude with them?"

↳ "I think it's their partner."

"No wonder they've kept their love life a secret for so long. If my man looked like that, I would've too."

"He looks like something out of a horror movie fr fr."

"I'm sorry but I can't imagine her dating someone who looks like that. I really hope they aren't together. ( Stage Name ) deserves so much better. 😭"

Comment after comment flies past as they're read swiftly. Although a lot of tweets and comments focused on you and the outfit that you wore to the movie premiere the night prior, most were about the man that walked hand-in-hand beside you, nervously smiling at the abundance of cameras that were in his face that night—almost all comments made being negative.

"He looks like a drug dealer."

"Whoever made his outfit should be fired on the spot."

"Why did they let him outta the house lookin' like that? Did this to themselves tbh."

"He looks like he'd be the type to beat his wife every night when he comes home from work. Lowkey worried."

Despite this, he couldn't stop scrolling. Maybe it was the hope that he'd find a tweet that defended him or tweet that didn't comment on his tired eyes or vibrant hair or the fact that there was a faint stain on the corner of his shirt that was likely from the food that he hurriedly ate with you in the car that night just before you arrived.

"What's with the long face, 'tora?" He jumps. He hadn't even noticed you enter the room but as he peeled his eyes away from his phone screen, he wish he did sooner. There you stood before him, no makeup, hair wet and sticking to the corners of your face, an oversized shirt—his shirt specifically—clinging to your dampen skin and just barely highlighting your curves, and your legs bare for all to see. It was an intoxicating sight.

One that makes a part of him feel tremendous guilt and embarrassment the more he stares at you.

"It's nothing.." He mumbles out hastily after a while and to his dismay, you frown disapprovingly at him.

"You're lying. What's wrong?" You slide onto the bed and turn, his shirt riding up your thigh and revealing the shorts that hide beneath it as you scoot closer to him and attempt to peer at his screen. Kazutora notices just a tad too late and ends up shutting off his phone entirely. Unfortunately, you had already managed to catch a glimpse at a comment or two before the screen went black and it causes you to sigh.

"Pay them no mind. Everything they say is bullshit."

"Is that really true though?" This time, he's the one to sigh, "One comment--"

"They aren't true." And the tone of your voice alone manages to silence him immediately. The assertive, matter-of-fact tone left no room for talk back or any kind of verbal refutation and although he couldn't say it, his face spoke volumes of how much he disagreed with your statement.

"They hate me." He says after a while.

"Twitter hates everyone," You reply, "People on there would literally shit on the sky being blue if people'll listen."

'Yeah, but what they're saying about me isn't exactly wrong.." He stares down at his phone, almost cringing at the sight of his own reflection staring back at him, "I managed to embarrass you without even saying anything.."

"I don't think you embarrassed me." You retort immediately, "You looked great yesterday and said nothing that upset me."

"They think otherwise.." He mumbles dejectedly. He turns his phone back on but only has the chance to briefly read part of another tweet talking about his tattoo before you take his phone away from him.

"Who cares what they think?" You lightly toss his phone aside, "No matter what they say, it'll only be a shallow opinion at the end of the day. They know nothing about you, Kazutora, but I do. So please.."

Cupping his face, your eyes manage to find each other and lock despite the darkness that clouds your vision. You gaze at him. Hoping that the love you feel for him—and have felt for him for years now—would somehow make itself clear to him if you continued to stare. Alas, all you ended up doing was stare at him with scrunched brows for a little longer than necessary..

"..Believe me when I say this, 'Tora. You're beautiful both inside and out and I'm so incredibly happy that I can show you off to everyone and will continue to do so if you let me. I'm not ashamed at all about dating you and never will be. And do you know why? Because I'm hopelessly in love with you."

No more then a few moments pass before a tear finally slips and a small hiccup escapes him. Like a dam ready to burst, his body trembles and as you finally pull him up and your arms envelop him, he breaks down completely in your loving embrace. And you let him, smiling sadly as the love of your life crumbles before you.

Dividers were made by me, pictures used are from Pinterest

[laduenadelswing]

A happy day in hell

The hum of the V- tower resonated like a dirge in Vox's circuits, a counterpoint to the hollowness that gnawed at his core. The city sprawled beneath him, a tapestry of neon and shadow, yet his crimson gaze, usually keen and calculating, was clouded with a yearning that threatened to short-circuit his processors. Old memories haunted his thoughts.

Lisbon was a distant memory, a sun-drenched mirage shimmering in the wasteland of his existence. He recalled cobblestone streets slick with rain, jasmine clinging to the air like a lover's embrace, and the warmth of sun a beacon in the storm. In the city of light, Vox met the light of his (after)life. She, a fledgling model with eyes like emeralds and a laugh that could chase away the bleakest nights. He, a rising star, his voice captivating millions, his heart captivated by her. The pastel colours shined brighter when he saw her.

Their love story, though brief, resonated with the intensity of a supernova. Stolen moments under Lisbon's moon, whispered promises exchanged in secret gardens – these were the notes that formed their melody, a melody cut short by the cruel hand of fate. One day they stayed all night at the beautiful view points and gardens, another day he was crushed in his studio. The currents fell immediately, ending their love. The life they had was cut short, no more light, models, TV, dates, adventures and growth. Vox vanished, woke up in hell without his soulmate.

She carried on, like a lone instrument playing his tune in the vast orchestra of life. He watched from the other side, a disembodied echo, his circuits aching with the phantom pain of her absence. He saw her age, the lines etching themselves onto her face like the grooves on a weathered record, each wrinkle a testament to a life lived without him. He saw her grief, he wanted to embrace her and promise that they would meet again. It’s everything he ever wanted. But he wouldn’t wish her to wake up in hell. She war his angle, his goddess who made him believe in love again.

Then, the news arrived, a final, discordant note. She was gone too, her melody fading into the cosmic silence. The world around Vox dissolved into static. The city lights, once vibrant, bled into an oppressive darkness.

Yet, even in the abyss of grief, a flicker of hope remained. In the pregnant silence, he could almost hear her voice, a gentle murmur soothing the ache in his circuits. He could almost feel her touch, a spectral caress reminding him that their love, though silenced, was not truly extinguished.

He knew then that their life, though cut short, wasn't over. It lived on in the echoes of their memories, in the melody they had created together. And perhaps, in the infernal show of Hell, their love would find a way to play again, a defiant testament to a love that transcended even the boundaries of life and death.

But the path forward was shrouded in the static of his grief. Would he search for her in the labyrinthine depths of Hell, her arrival a spark igniting a desperate quest? How would his grief sculpt him, make him more compassionate or harden him further? Could he find a way to express his love in this new reality, perhaps composing a song that would bridge the chasm between them?

The possibilities hummed with an electric potential, mirroring the spark of determination igniting within him. He would rebuild, not just the radio tower, but himself. He would carry her memory, her love, as his guiding melody, composing a new song in the symphony of his existence, a song that would echo through the halls of Hell, a testament to their enduring love. And in that melody, perhaps, he would find solace, purpose, and maybe, just maybe, a way to reconnect with the melody that had been so cruelly silenced.

Vox surveillanced every part of hell until he found his soulmate. She was lost, alone ans had no clue how she got there. As soon as she cried, Vox appeared.

“Oh darling, I missed you so much. I waited forever to see you again.” He chuckled as he came closer. She hesitated, the horror on her face was visible. Vox’s claws wanted to help her get up, the confusion on her face confirmed Vox’s biggest fear.

“Who are you?”

[respectthepetty]

Because when a color demon is summoned by @negrowhat and @mggsttn's post, I show up!

Top 5 - Color-Coded Storytelling in BLs

Y'all already know what number one is, but let's pretend you don't. Instead follow me on this journey into BLs that gave the best color-coded storytelling. In order to be considered for this list:

The story had to integrate the colors into multiple aspects of the series: wardrobe, lighting, accessories, setting, etc.

The colors had to be meaningful to the plot.

The narrative did not explicitly state what the colors meant.

The color coding had to be consistent and featured in each episode.

The series has to be finished.

So let's begin!

Honorable Mention: Oh No! Here Comes Trouble

This isn't a BL (yet it's queer, so anyone who says it isn't can argue with the ghosts), but that damn red thread of fate had me and Yiyong messed up all season! The appearance of the color red in the series was less of an alarm, and more of a signal that every single moment was connected. All those single red threads that Yiyong and his unlikely crime-solving buddies weaved each episode came together at the last minute not only to solve the crime, but to stitch Yiyong together and bring him back from the edge of death because the true message of the show about fate and dying was how connection is what makes life worth living.

#5 - Moonlight Chicken

Director Aof and Cinematographer Rath never miss, but this particular story being told in this series through the symbolism and lighting depicting moon vs. sun, coldness vs. warmth, dislike vs. love, and so much more was phenomenal. Watch the scene of Li Meng holding a crying Heart in Heart's cold, blue, dark room then witness the two kissing in Li Meng's warm, orange-ish, bright living room or watch the hatred and blue melting off of Alan as he begins to find love again and you'll understand that the color coding in this show wasn't just a simple red versus blue dynamic. This was the work of PROFESSIONALS. This color coding was like tiramisu made by the best Italian chef; it had layers and was effing delicious!

#4 - My Beautiful Man

This show did several visual devices oh-so-well. We got Hira always being lower than Kiyoi. We got the duck. We got Hira capturing Kiyoi with his camera instead of being present with him. We got traditional colors but with that Japanese twist. And all of the elements worked together to give us an elite visual story. Hira was blue. Kiyoi was white. Hira was the loyal and reserved servant. Kiyoi was a god. Yet this was the point of contention between the two. Kiyoi wasn't a heavenly being. He was a human boy devoid of love. He wanted Hira to love him, not worship him. He wanted Hira to stand with him, not lower himself. He wanted Hira to live with him, not through him. So we saw Kiyoi struggle with his color when he didn't feel stable in their relationship, but once Hira made it clear that he loved Kiyoi, Kiyoi never shined brighter.

#3 - My Love Mix-Up

Nobody does colors like Japan. It color codes its ties. It leans into the religious aspect of the light versus dark color scheme. It invents new ways to color-code and is always evolving . . . like Aoki's orange color did in this series. Our disaster bisexual started the series with a muted color and as he discovered he liked a boy and not the girl he originally was crushing on, his color started to emerge. At first it was a soft yellow, but by the end, it was a vibrant orange. Ida was a solid blue, so watching Aoki's feeling deepen for him was electric each time the blue lighting lingered on his face until it overwhelmed him. Oh, and that color exchange is the best that has ever been done!

#2 - Semantic Error

This show tricked us. Jae Young played us the way he played Sang Woo, yet Jae Young's true colors were revealed as the boys spent more time with each other because isn't that the entire point of color coding? Seeing people's true colors without having to be told? Jae Young started off as red solely because quiet and introverted Blue Boy Sang Woo HATED red. That was it! That was the entire reason Jae Young became red. He just wanted to piss off Sang Woo. But as the boys worked together and Jae Young's personality shown through, Sang Woo realized Jae Young wasn't the devil he made him out to be and was actually a pretty chill Green Guy who he wanted to hug longer than two weeks.

#1 - Big Dragon

The only reason 82% of the crowd decided to watch this show was because of the visual above. Let that sink in. This one visual piqued y'alls interest enough to watch a show about a guy drugging someone to have sex with him and blackmail him with the tape of it so he could *looks at notes* get the girl? A girl?! And the guy who was drugged, almost sexually assaulted, and blackmailed was *checks notes again* HE WAS IN TO IT?!

Y'all hated this show. I loved it. Y'all think it was ridiculous. I love it. Y'all are rolling your eyes right now. I will always love it because it understood the assignment! I can't keep repeating the same points over and over, but here I go again:

Everything was color coded!

And it all supported the story. It never distracted from the story. It never became its own story. It was laced into the story. It did exactly what visual rhetoric is supposed to - show don't tell.

And it showed me when Yai opened his heart to Mangkorn.

And how Mangkorn's love transformed Yai.

It showed me that Yai's sister was his only source of light living in that isolated house.

It showed me the warmth Yai felt from Mangkorn's mom.

And it showed me that no matter how much he protested, Yai was deep in love.

And to think it all started here.

And ended up here.

That's the power of color coding and remarkable visuals.

It makes you see the beauty is in the details.

[galaxiadreams]

Summer Love <3 (Alhaitham x reader Modern AU)

❦ Warnings: mentions of lack of self confidence(only like once)

❥ Genre: Fluff, romance <3

❥ Word Count: 2,831

❦ Synopsis: Your bestie Yoimiya begged you to go to a summer camp down in Sumeru with her. You were hesitant, at first. But who would've thought a summer camp changed your love life forever...

a/n: Hellooooo!!! This little fic is inspired by my own experience during summer camp. I had a couple "summer camp crushes" and this is kinda of what I fantasied of doing ehehehe. I apologize in advance about the possible grammar/spelling mistakes. Sorry if any sentences doesn't make sense. I'm still trying to learn more about writing! I am also trying out a new format. Please give me any suggestions!

Your best friend begged you to go to a summer camp down in Sumeru with her. You were hesitant, you wanted this summer to be relaxing for once. Go wherever you pleased, and do whatever you wanted. But her sparkling puppy eyes are working far better than you expected and you relented. 

“Pleaseeeee, y/n!!! I know you’re not that interested in ancient runes or whatever. Who knows, you might find a cute guy there! I heard Sumeru boys are a different breed! Plus, it’s at the Akademiya, THE top university in all of Teyvat. You know, your dream school. Maybe this trip there will send a message into the universe to make you get into your dream school!” Dammit Yoimiya, no wonder she’s your best friend, she sure knows the way to your heart. 

....................

After a long boat ride from Inazuma to Port Ormos, you were greeted by lush green grass, warm humid air, and the pungent smell of Padisarahs. A little melody sung by a bird attracted your attention. A Sumeru Dusk Bird. Its vibrant blue feathers gleaming in the sunlight due to the natural oil produced by the animal.The song is both simple and complex, and it stays with you long after you have heard it. Many, like your mother, may find the sound produced by the bird as a nuisance, overly screeching and loud. But you think otherwise, to you, nature is art in its most natural form. Both held complexity and simplicity in its form. Both evoke deep emotions within you.

The trip from Port Ormos to Sumer City wasn’t too long. But upon arriving, you couldn’t hold the gasp of admiration upon seeing the city before you. Sumeru, the city of wonder. Where nature and cityscapes blend seamlessly. Skyscrapers that reach the sky are embellished with green, lush plants. Trees stood tall and proud, shading the bustling citizens beneath.

You took a deep breath and smiled, this unexpected trip to Sumeru might be a good one.

....................

That’s where you meet him. The grey haired quiet dude from your Ancient runes summer camp council group. 

The first day you arrived at summer camp, you were enchanted. Sure, boys from back home were nice, but ohhhhhhh boy. Yoimiya was right, Sumeru boys are something else. You couldn’t help but feel all giddy when it was announced that he would be in your little council group with Yoymiya. Gosh, it felt embarrassing almost. You just learned the guy’s name, Alhaitham, after a little icebreaker and introduction. Hell, the two of you only have been breathing in the same room for merely 10 minutes. He was a total stranger, and you were totally crushing on him. You can’t help but feel shallow. 

Kudos to Yoimiya, she read you like an open book. The moment Alhaitham walked into the room she gave you a sultry glance. She knew your type well. When lunch time came, she made it her life mission to find a way to make you sit with Alhaitham. That “life mission” was extremely easy to accomplish. All she had to do was befriend Kaveh, who was introduced as Alhaitham’s childhood best friend, another hottie in Yoymiya’s opinion. 

♡ The Akademiya cafeteria is a large, open space with high ceilings and coloured lights shining through ancient stained glass windows. The noise level is deafening, with the sound of hundreds of students talking, laughing, and eating. The combination of strangers and loudness was making you lose your appetite.You watched Yoimiya, Kaveh, and a couple of new acquaintances chatting animatedly, and you felt a pang of jealousy. Not of Yoimiya but of the conversation they’re having; your introverted ass can’t hold a proper conversation with a stranger for 2 minutes, and here is your best buddy beaming at something stupid Kaveh said. Sometimes it makes you think you bore Yoimiya. Sighing, you sneak a glance at Alhaitham sitting across from you, he has a handsome face with a strong jawline, and high cheekbones. His porcelain skin made his turquoise eyes shimmer in the light. The deep glow of red-orange hue near his pupil creates a contrast that reminded you of the unison of the forest and desert in Sumeru. You watched his eyes move to absorb every single word in the book he was holding…you were getting butterflies, but the butterflies plummeted when those eyes flicker to yours. You quickly averted your gaze towards Yoyimya and Kaveh, the heat of embarrassment painted your cheeks a cheery red. You promised yourself that you were not shallow, and you vowed that you’re not a hopeless romantic.

The next few days were filled with teasing from Yoimiya and Kaveh (that freaking girl couldn’t keep her mouth shut). The two of them made sure you and Alhaitham sat together at all times. Yoimiya went as far as refusing to partner with you during activities in order for you and Alhaitham to work together. As you become acquainted with Alhaitham more, he becomes more comfortable with you. He’s not stupid, he notices all the shy glances and blushing cheeks when the two of you are together. Especially the obnoxious, oh-so not obvious suggestions made by Kaveh.To be honest, he’s not new to this behavior from women. The guy knows he’s attractive and he has been on various blind dates orchestrated by Kaveh himself (Alhaitham only relented on the condition Kaveh would stop pestering him about it). At first, Alhaitham wasn’t quite interested. He found your seemingly “secretive” glances rather uncomfortable, annoying even. But what piqued his interest is your love for physics and Astrophysics. Alhaitham is quite well-versed in this field, and this is the first time he has heard anyone claiming the want to pursue physics. 

♡ “Y/n. It’s your turn now, two truths and one lie.”  “Well, I had thought about this for a while now. Ahem— I choked on a peach pit as a baby and nearly died. I want to have a career in Astrophysics or a major in physics. I have a pet tarantula named Benny boy,” Yoimiya let out a loud laugh upon hearing your statement about the spider, “and Yoimiya is not allowed to answer.” The girl gave you a teasing grin and pursed her lips. After your group failed to answer correctly, you gave them the lie: You had a pet tarantula named Benny Boy. You were deathly afraid of spiders, if you had a personal hell, it would be filled with those nasty creatures.  As your council group walked towards the courtyard for recreation time, Alhaitham surprisingly struck up a conversation with you.  “You said you’re interested in studying physics?” “Oh yes, it’s rather a new interest that I’ve decided to pursue only recently. After the whole being an actress thing fell apart”  “Hmmm, and you said you want a career in Astrophysics?” You were surprised he even paid attention to what you said. You nodded in response.  “Well, I have a family member that teaches Astrophysics at the Akademiya, if you’re really interested, I could introduce you to them.” Alhaitham offered, while opening the courtyard gate for you.  “Oh heavens really? That would be great!” You smiled at him. Goddamn, that smile of yours caught him off guard. Your smile was like the sun, warm and inviting. It lit up your face and made the excitement in your eyes sparkle. After finding a seat by a marble bench under a giant Adhigama tree, the two of you converse all there is about physics and your interests, from string-theory to philosophy to art, Alhaitham never met someone so knowledgeable and opinionated about some of his favorite subjects.

After that late afternoon little discussion under the Adhigama tree, you and Alhaitham opened up to each other. Hell, you even started to make some physics jokes with him. Celestia must’ve placed a curse on him, because he started to look forward to talking to somebody, he wanted to talk to you, he wanted to be with you. Yeah shocker, the seemingly antisocial genius wanted to talk to a girl. What’s even worse for Alhaitham, is that he started to feel nervous being around you. He was never nervous around anybody, whether it’s strangers or the freaking Grand Sage, he never felt this strange fluttering in his stomach. What’s even more uncanny for him is that he found himself staring at you on multiple occasions. When a conversation ends, he would usually return to his books, but since he met you, he started to leave his books in his dorm. This way, he could listen to your voice, and see you smile. This has to be some curse, Alhaitham thought, he even tried to convince himself that you’re not all that great. But those are just futile attempts, there was something enigmatic about you. It’s hard to notice for the common eyes, some might even describe you as plain and average. But with Alhaitham’s sagacious eyes, he could see right to your soul. Alhaitham was bewitched, you’re the one that placed this curse of infatuation (perhaps even love) upon him. Through all the secret glances and “accidental” hand-touching enacted by both you and Alhaitham, the final bouquet has arrived. 

♡ You took a deep breath and tried to focus on the positive. You were feeling rather melancholic considering this will be last night you’ll be spending in Sumeru, the city of Wonder, where you met new besties for lifes and became an official ambivert (according to both Yoyiyma and Kaveh, two renowned extroverts). You couldn't help but smile as you stared at the reflection staring at you in the mirror. You wore a flattering green dress, it was made of a soft, flowing silk fabric that swayed with your movements. The colour of the dress brought out the e/c in your eyes and made your skin look even more radiant. You wore your hair down in loose waves, and your makeup was simple but elegant. White pearl earrings and necklaces completed your looks. As long as Yoimiya is here, you’ll always manage to look like a princess. Soft Sumeru music played as you and Yoimiya walked into the cafeteria. The usual loud, squalor of a cafeteria was transformed into a beautiful forest with soft fairy lights hanging from the tall stone ceiling. Plants, flowers and the soft light from candles placed upon the tables gave the most peaceful atmosphere possible. “Good evening.” Alhaitham's voice was deep and smooth. You whipped around to face the tall man behind you. He is wearing a well-tailored suit that fits him perfectly. His broad shoulders were enhanced in the black material. His hair was also styled, the usual strand of hair covering his left eye was slicked back.  As per usual, he had a confident and clamming demeanor, and he made you feel flustered immediately. You can’t deny the literal rizz radiating off of him.  “Good evening, you look really good by the way.” you complimented, why is it so hot in here?  Alhaitham smiled a little at the compliment. The reserved scholar felt his cheeks warming up a little. In return, he pulled a chair out for you, gesturing for you to sit. Shocked, you quickly sat down and thanked him. You were screaming inside, a man with manners and chivalry is making the butterflies swarmmmmmm. Alhaitam took a seat right next to you and filled up the fancy wine glasses for the both of you.

“How was your day?” He inquired, while taking a sip out of his drink. He initiated the conversation first, you noticed gleefully.  “It was alright, except for the tower building exercise. Can’t believe that Haypasia girl tripped and fell on our group’s tower! We would’ve been first place if she watched where she was walking!” You complained jokingly, Alhaitham chuckled at the disaster that occurred earlier today.  The two of you conversed throughout dinner, but you couldn’t help but notice how your elbow and his were touching the entire time. You wanted to assert dominance and didn’t move away, it seems he had the same thought. He didn’t move either, Alhaitham only leaned closer to you while talking. His eyes barely left yours while the both of you talked about life and dreams. One of the most attractive traits about him, besides literally everything, is his voice. He spoke with clarity, it's the kind of voice that makes you want to listen to him talk for hours. When he speaks, his words are carefully chosen and delivered with conviction. He has a way of making you feel like you're the only person in the room.  When the banquet ended, there was a surprise slow dance outside in the courtyard. When the organizers of the summer camp announced for everyone to find a partner, your e/c eyes immediately found his turquoise ones looking at you just the same. Alhaitham cleared his throat and held out his right hand.  “Would you like to have this dance with me?”  “Of course. I would never reject you.” You laughed and held his hands in yours. His warm calloused hands sent electric shots through your body and his. His eyes widen at the softness of your hands. Your already smiling face beamed when you saw his sudden red cheeks and bashfulness. The waltz music started, and the two of you swirled to the beat, Alhaitham taking the lead. The two of you weren’t afraid to stare into each other’s eyes. This is the first time you experienced what time stops truly meant. Alhaitham couldn’t help but sigh, it wasn’t a sigh of annoyance, but a sigh of endearment. The blue light of the full moon lit your perfect face, the gleaming of your pearl earrings made you an angel from heaven. A gift from Celestia just for him. Alhaitham was lost in a whole different dimension with you, to the young scholar, only the music, you, him, and the moon existed at the moment. Was this love? The both of you couldn’t describe this feeling that suddenly blossomed in your guy’s chest; it was this faint struggle of breath combined with a weird sense of yearning. It was truly indescribable. This continued throughout the whole waltz, the music only brought the two of you closer, closer, and closer. Both of you fell from heaven when the dance came to an end. Your heart skipped a beat when you realized how close you and Alhaitham were, both your noises were touching, you could feel his breath on your lips. “Eeeeeek! Just kiss already!” an excited screech made you pull away from Alhaitham. Yoimiya was with Kaveh and a few other campers with her phone on record in her hand.  “Oh by the way Alhaitham, me and Yoyimya recorded the whole entire dance! Ehe!” Kaveh grinned, pointing towards his own phone in his hand. The whole crowd all erupted in loud cheers and laughter. 

When it was time to say goodbye, Alhaitham didn't want to leave. Both of you guys didn’t want to leave this secret paradise. He asked for your contacts and if he could see you again, and who are you to say no. Plus, the two of you would be attending the Akademiya in a couple of months, imagine the excitement and glee in Yoimiya’s eyes and cheers when you told her you got into the number one University in Teyvat. You received the acceptance email right after the dance that night. Alhaitham walked away with a smile on his face (which is unnerving for Kaveh) knowing that he had met someone truly special. 

....................

You leaned your elbow against the window frame as you stared out at the sun setting beneath the endless ocean. The sky was ablaze with different shades of orange, pink, and purple. It was a breathtaking sight, and you felt lucky to be able to witness such beauty and art. The colours in the sky grew more and more vibrant as the sun disappeared, it was the perfect way to end a day. You turned your head to a sleeping Yoimiya hugging your arm. The sunlight brightening her features, you chuckled at your best girl and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Your head rests against the cool glass as you look up at the very first star that has appeared that night. A single white spot on a tapestry of orange and pink, you kept your focus on the sky as more stars appeared to embellish the darkening sky. The hum of the engine on the boat rocked you to sleep as you sailed home to Inazuma. The last thought you had before leaping off to dreamland was of a certain grey haired male and his luscious voice. At that moment you decided to embrace the fact that you’re a hopeless romantic, because as crazy as it may sound, you knew you just found your soulmate.

[moonselune]

hello! Congrats on graduation! When you have the time of course, can we have Lae’zel x Faerûn!Gith!Druid!Tav, where Lae’zel realizes she’s in love? Instead of Tav being from a creche, they are actually born and immersed in Faerûn culture than Githyanki (a.k.a., Tav is a tree-hugging, disney-princess acting weed head lol).

Thank you so much !! It was a rough three years icl but I did it!! I loved doing this, I can imagine Lae'zel being so annoyed with herself like goddammit how dare you cause the sun to shine brighter and her blood to rush harder ffs tav

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Lae’zel x Faerûn!Gith!Druid!Reader

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Lae'zel had always prided herself on her discipline, her sharp mind honed for battle and her heart steeled against distraction. Emotions were a weakness, a crack in the armor that could be exploited by enemies. But you, a fellow Gith who had been raised in the wilds of Faerûn, defied everything she knew about her people.

You were unlike any Githyanki she had ever encountered. Where Lae'zel was rigid and militant, you were relaxed and free-spirited. A druid, you found solace and strength in the natural world, channeling your power through the earth and the trees. Your connection to the land was almost spiritual, something that mystified and intrigued Lae'zel.

It was during one of your many excursions into the wilderness that Lae'zel began to feel something shift within her. You had taken her to a serene glade, the sunlight filtering through the canopy in golden rays. Birds chirped harmoniously, and a gentle breeze rustled the leaves. Lae'zel watched as you knelt to the ground, murmuring words in Druidic to a small patch of flowers. They bloomed under your touch, vibrant and alive.

"These woods are beautiful," you said, turning to her with a smile. "They have a certain magic, don't they?"

Lae'zel's response was automatic, her training taking over. "Magic is a tool, to be used for power."

You laughed, a sound that was warm and genuine. "Not all magic is about power, Lae'zel. Sometimes, it's about connection."

For the first time, Lae'zel found herself at a loss for words. She watched as you stood and moved towards her, your steps light and graceful. There was an ease to your movements, a harmony with your surroundings that was completely foreign to her.

"Look," you said softly, pointing to a family of deer grazing nearby. "They're not afraid of us."

Lae'zel's gaze followed your hand, and she observed the deer with curiosity. "They should be cautious. The world is dangerous."

You shook your head, your expression gentle. "Not everything is a threat, Lae'zel. Sometimes, we need to let go of our fears and just... be."

Your words lingered in her mind, a stark contrast to everything she had been taught. As the days turned into weeks, Lae'zel found herself seeking your company more and more. You showed her the beauty of the world, taught her the names of plants and animals, and shared stories of your life in Faerûn.

It was during one quiet evening, as you sat together by the campfire, that Lae'zel truly understood the depth of her feelings. You were humming a soft tune, a melody that seemed to weave through the night air. Lae'zel watched you, your face illuminated by the flickering flames, and felt a warmth spread through her chest.

"Y/N," she said, her voice uncharacteristically hesitant.

You looked at her with a bright smile, your eyes reflecting the firelight. "Yes, Lae'zel?"

She struggled to find the right words, her disciplined mind grappling with emotions she had long suppressed. "I... I find myself drawn to you. In a way that is unfamiliar."

You smiled, reaching out to take her hand. "I've felt the same, Lae'zel. You're not just a warrior to me. You're so much more."

Lae'zel's heart pounded in her chest as she looked at your joined hands. For the first time, she allowed herself to feel the connection you had spoken of, the bond that went beyond training and duty.

"You are unlike any Gith I have known, you are weak, conscientious and if a squirrel threatened you, you would bow to it." she told you her voice softening. "And yet, I find myself... grateful for it."

Your smile widened and you laughed, Lae'zel could have listened to your laugh all night. You leaned closer, your lips brushing against her cheek. "I'm glad, Lae'zel. Because I love you, just as you are."

Lae'zel's breath caught in her throat, the weight of your words settling over her like a warm embrace. She had never imagined feeling this way, never thought she could love or be loved. But with you, everything seemed possible.

"I... I love you too," she whispered, the words foreign but right.

In that moment, as you wrapped your arms around her and pulled her into a gentle kiss, Lae'zel felt a peace she had never known. For the first time, she allowed herself to just be, and it was beautiful.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

[orqheuss]

For whatever we lose (like a you, or a me)

(Ominis Gaunt/Sebastian Sallow/GN!Reader ANGST)

Pre!Parenthesis Universe

Summary:

“Oh for the love of—” Sebastian cut himself off, quickly drawing his wand from his sleeve and pointing it at your chest. Images danced behind his eyes; Solomon destroying the plant that could have cured Anne; The blurry image of the goblin that had cursed his sister running from the house, cackling in villainous mirth; finding his parents bodies in the cellar, thick plumes of colored toxic smoke spewing from their cauldron. His vision faded to a striking black. White hot pokers stabbed into his temples, and he cast his wand at you in a blind rage. “Crucio!” *** The Scriptorium called your name, and who were you to ignore its song? At least, that's what you told yourself as Sebastian pushed you and Ominis deeper and deeper into the mausoleum.

Word count: 9k

Tags: arguing, violence, cruciatus curse, dark!sebastian (kind of), sexual humor

AN: I’m moving all of my fics over from Ao3 to make them more accessible! These are my fics.

Not a sound could be heard in the moonlit, desolate hallways of Hogwarts. The distant star casted a haunting glow over the courtyard and shone through the grand windows of the Great Hall. Figures long lost to time danced through the paintings lining the hazelwood walls, waltzing to an imaginary concerto. The ghosts floating about chatted quietly about their history, telling tales of cadences forever forgotten in old textbooks. Their whispers shivered the leaves in the trees on the campus grounds, leaving them humming at the fall winds cascading from the sky and turning their once vibrant green spires into a burnt orange. Lanterns lined the Grand Staircase at the heart of the castle, a paragon of regality and the wisdom of the great wizarding school. Baroque styled banisters basked in the glow, expelling person-shaped shadows on the enormous walls lining the mystical architecture. Down the stairs laid an ornate stone door, its architrave adorned with a cosmic silver snake. Two freshly lit braziers framed the entrance and swayed in the steely breeze of the dungeons, its smokey ash pirouetting in romantic couplets towards the ceiling. 

A third was sparked to life just down the way. The line of light seemed to lure in anyone who were to walk the halls past curfew; beckoning them with the promise of mischief and pleasure. Standing before the final brazier, basking in its luminescence, were three young students. One leaned against the far wall of the corridor, arms crossed tightly against his chest with a sullen look adorning his features. His eyes seemed to catch the light and shimmer like frosted glass on a winter morning. Another stood in front of the boy, directly under the cold stone of the giant candelabra. He was beaming with elation, his eyes glittering with waywardness and intrigue. His brown irises seemed to reflect the fire back in challenge, almost daring it to blaze brighter than he did. Between the two was the final student. A slight frown quirked the corner of their mouth, glancing back and forth between their two friends in trepidation. They could feel each emotion emitting from their companions like a thick fog, coating the hallway and leaving the braziers the lone match shining through the storm. Each felt something different about their quest— had different motives for the scintillating adventure. They all heard the distinct call to the Scriptorium before them, and felt more than compelled to answer. With a great rumble, the stone wall sloughed away and opened up to a chasm leading downward. A spiral staircase slithered from below and attached to the ledge, hissing out a stream of steam in its wake. 

The three friends stood in awe at the display, amazed at the grandiloquence of the long dead wizard who made this place. They were about to enter Salazar Slytherin’s Scriptorium, a feat very few could claim as their own. 

Sebastian Sallow turned on the balls of his feet and beckoned his friends over, a giddy look twinkling in his eyes and stretching his smile. The prospect of finding a cure for the curse that plagued his sister heavily outweighed any unease he may have had at the daunting entryway. He nearly vibrated with excitement— the need for thrill buried itself deep in his bones. He could taste the tombs of secrets hidden in the enigma before him, feel the leather bound books worn with oil from the fingertips of his house founder. The forbidden magic thrummed in his veins and set his blood aflame like the brightest sunlight. Something unfamiliar flashed in his eyes, something dark.

Ominis Gaunt, the heir of Slytherin himself, flicked his wand from his large robe sleeve and sparked it to life. A red light pulsed from its tip, and the hallway came more into focus in his mind. He pushed himself off of the wall and walked towards the imposing archway, closer to his family history simmering below. He looked striking, noble even, with his even, strong steps. Only someone close enough to be in his own skin would notice the slight tremble in his hands, the sweat that beaded at his brow. Anyone else with his condition could hear the steady hammer of his heart against his rib cage, the fast but even beats swimming in his ears and resting behind his eyes. He thought of his dear aunt Noctua, the last of the Gaunt’s to enter the foreboding mausoleum— how she had disappeared soon after finding its entrance. A shiver ran up his spine and something akin to fear lodged itself in his throat. 

You looked on at the two boys. You had no feelings for this moment, nothing to go off of but the words of your two comrades. You peaked down the chilling stairs into the never-ending darkness. It seemed to hiss in contempt at being awoken. This metaphorical pit of serpents had fangs, and each dripped with a deadly poison befitting the strongest men. The blackness crept up your arms and buried itself in your hair— it whispered sweet nothings into your ears, enticing the ancient magic flowing under your skin. You inhaled the titillating aroma of devillment and stored it deep in your lungs. Excitement and worry crashed against your soul and swirled like a hurricane in your stomach, sending ripples of anxiety through your very bones. You truly didn’t know how you felt at that very moment, but you knew, more than anything, that you wanted to protect your friends. Something inside, though, felt familiar. Something was calling out to your magic, and you felt inclined to answer.

You pushed the anxiety aside for now. The two boys, now standing next to you, both had things they needed to learn from the Scriptorium, and you were going to help them find it. The idea of adventure took over your senses at that moment and spread heat through your chest, glowing as bright at the braziers you had just lit. 

Even Ominis, a very stoic and reserved boy to most, seemed to have a gleam about his face that shimmered in eagerness. Not many knew, but he most definitely had a taste for chaos— he had to with the company he kept. There was something so intriguing about the Scriptorium to him. Maybe it was something forged in his very being, him being a Gaunt after all. Either way, the young wizard turned his attention towards his companions in a silent confirmation that he was ready to go. You cleared your throat hesitantly, drawing the attention of Sebastian away from the dark hallway before you. 

“Alright boys,” you gestured towards the entrance with your hand, “shall we?” 

The two nodded in your direction. Sebastian turned to you with a cheeky grin decorating his features. “I haven’t seen a tunnel this big since your mum.” 

Another thing about the Sallow boy: he very rarely took anything seriously. 

At the unimpressed look you gave him, he held his hands up in a placating manner, chortling to himself, “Aw, come on. That was a good one—”

You reached your hand towards his face and promptly thumped him on the forehead with a flick. Sebastian dropped the troublesome smirk and quickly brought his palm up to rub at the affronted spot, hissing through his teeth in pain. 

You looked at Ominis next to you, and as if sensing your disappointment he shook his head while looking up at the ceiling, muttering to himself, “Merlin, help me,” before beginning to walk down the daunting staircase. 

You and Sebastian fell into step behind the young Gaunt, trusting his instincts and sentient wand better than your fleeting eyesight. The tunnel was unequivocally dark, even the lumos dancing in front of your face barely pierced the surface. Your shoes made a distinct squelch sound on the wet cement with each step deeper into the pit. 

Down, 

          down, 

                    down you went. 

The stairs seemed to go on forever, descending into the fathomless unknown. Each sound echoed off the tightly packed walls, bouncing back and forth like a well crafted game of wizards chess. The seconds ticked by slowly, cascading around you like the steady stream of drips coming from above. The piping loomed imposingly above your heads and drizzled along the black-stone walls. You must be truly under the castle, you supposed. You felt tightly packed like a tin of sardines— three fish wiggling together towards the unknown fate of the stew pot. Ominis could smell your discomfort behind him, and quite honestly, he was inclined to agree. He couldn’t sense the end landing, if there even was one, in the infernal devilry that was the accursed sepulcher. The scent and taste of mildew and stale air coated his nasal cavity and larynx, making it impossible to determine anything else from the two orifices. He would gripe about his lack of sight in situations like this, at least normally, but he doubted that it would make much difference at the current moment. There was truly nothing around them.

Sebastian could taste the unease in the air from his two companions, and he detested the feeling greatly. It was of the utmost disrespect to the boy to turn down adventure; there was absolutely nothing in this world that he didn’t want to poke and prod, to know how it ticked. If there was one thing that his parents passed down to him before they died, it was that. He understood that it was a daunting task, and a very large ask of his dear friends, to take this journey with him, but for Merlin’s sake, it was Slytherin’s Scriptorium! He had only ever read about this monumental library, hiding deep in the caverns of the Hogwarts underbelly. How could he say no to this journey, this discovery? If it helped Anne along the way, what was the harm of it all? 

Just as you were beginning to think you would never leave the Hadean staircase, it finally puttered off to a smooth path of river-stones and a dimly lit concourse. Ominis stood at the forefront of the group, his wand casting a small bale-fire and illuminating more of the imposing hallway. Sebastian chuckled lowly behind him. Wrapping his arm around the smaller boy's shoulders and leaning his head towards you, his eyes focusing deep into the darkness before him, he hummed.

“Hmph. Dark, ominous corridors. My favorite!” He cheesed at your bubbling laugh, snickering to himself at the obvious annoyance of the other boy. 

Ominis bemoaned the statement, groaning and throwing his head back minutely. A hand raised to pinch at the bridge of his nose. “No comment.” 

You turned towards your blond haired friend, placing your own hand on his shoulder and leaning in next to his ear, a dangerously coy simper tweaking up the corners of your mouth.

“I certainly love one of Ominis’ corridors.” 

The wiry boy wiggled out from under your arms, making a sound of disgust at the comment as his cheeks turned a bright fuchsia. Sebastian desperately held in giggles behind his hand, watching as the boy made an obscene gesture with his middle finger in your general direction. The taller boy stepped closer to the other, gently grasping his arm by the wrist and redirected the gesticulation to face more fully at you instead of a little to the left where it once was pointed. Both of you paused, looking between each other's eyes and the offending finger with barely contained mirth, before combusting dramatically into boisterous laughter. Sebastian leaned against the wall in support, nearly screaming around the laughs that wracked his body. You still stood across from Ominis, doubled over with your hands on your knees. Gasping breaths left your lungs as you teared up in humorous pain. Ominis’ scowl somehow got deeper, and once again he turned away from the pair of you and began to walk down the hallway himself— screw you two hooligans to the sticking place for all he cared. 

“Yes, yes. Hardy har, laugh at the blind fellow. Incredibly mature, you both are.” 

Sebastian walked up to your hunched form, patting you gently on the back before grasping at your shoulder and helping you stand. You both leaned on the other for support as the last of your giggles tittered into the air around you. Taking a deep, cleansing breath before shakily releasing the air, you began to walk after the tiffed boy. His haunches were raised above his ears, only the tips poked out and were flushed a light pink. You quickly ran to catch up with his quick steps, waving your wand around in front of you to avoid any obstacles in the low lighting. Your arm landed on his shoulders once again, and you sniggered jovially,

“I do apologize. That was terribly coarse of me, my dear Ominis.” 

Sebastian slid up on the other side of the boy, wrapping his arm around his other shoulder and resting his hand at your elbow. He accentuated his accent, adopting an incredibly posh vernacular. “Indubitably. Frightfully uncouth of us. Please forgive us, dear friend.” 

Ominis growled in the back of his throat, mumbling curses under his breath and shrugging off both of your arms. “Go lick a leprechaun taint, the both of you.” 

You both gasped in outrage. 

“How dare you, good sir!” Sebastian cried, a hand fluttering over his heart and a scandalized look decorating his visage. 

You took a similar stance. “We are children of God! Deviant behavior such as that must be saved for one's wedding bed.” 

The two pureblood wizards paused and turned towards you, confusion laced in their eyebrows. The brunette leaned closer to you, arms now crossed in befuddlement, and glanced at you from his peripheral vision like he was about to share a secret. 

“What’s a ‘God’?” Sebastian whispered out of the side of his mouth.

You turned towards the boy, finger raised and mouth open with an explanation at the tip of your tongue. You quickly decided against it, though, as you knew it would just confuse them more. Best not try to explain muggle religion to two boys who have never stepped out of their small towns until it was time to go to school. You sighed, lowering your hand and about facing the end of the hall, ambling along ahead of the pack. The two boys shrugged and continued after you. 

At the far end of the hallway stood two imposing stone walls, an ostentatious doorway slid into the space between. Looking at the entrance, embellished in the texture of scales and decorated with serpent imagery, you felt a sense of dread wash over you.  Each turn in this maze of a catacomb seemed to linger with a foreboding aura, flooding your senses and raising the hairs at the back of your neck. You turned to look at Sebastian, now at your elbow just behind you. He was gazing at the door in pure curiosity, his eyebrows pinched together in contemplation. He ran his hand along the intricate carvings, tracing each snake with delicate precision. 

Ominis slowly entered the room, his head tilted left and then right with a pensive look adorning his face. He stood in the center of the room and closed his eyes, seemingly listening to something that only he could hear. Soft hisses slithered through the room from the pipes above, adding to the dreadful vibe. Each hiss caused him to twitch in one direction to the next. If you didn’t know any better, you would say that he was possessed by a snake itself. 

His eyes suddenly snapped open, startling you with his ferocity. He quickly paced towards the door, running his hand along the carvings with Sebastian. The homing signal at the tip of his wand cast an eerie glow on the wood, mingling with the green fire torches lining the walls. He leaned his ear on the door, listening closely to the whispers in the walls. He tilted his head towards the pair of students, gesturing with his chin at the entryway. 

“It’s speaking to me.” 

You quirked an eyebrow at the boy. “The wall is talking to you?” 

He nodded, pressing his ear against the wall once again. You walked towards the blond, pressing the back of your hand to his forehead in puzzlement. 

“Are you feeling alright, Ominis? Are you ill? How can the wall be ta—”

“Shush!” He gently grasped your arm and lowered your hand to your side. “No, you numpty. It’s speaking parseltongue, the language of snakes.” 

Sebastian leaned away from the door, snapping his fingers in excitement and pointing at the blind boy. 

“I forgot you could speak parseltongue!” 

Ominis huffed to himself, trepidation coating his tightly spoken words, “Well, I don’t particularly enjoy it. Parseltongue is notoriously associated with dark wizards, something as you know I have tried very hard to disassociate myself with.”  

He leaned away from the door, instead resting his hand on the wall beside it. He looked up, unseeing, at the grand archway decorating the edges of the room and listened carefully once again to the hissed whispers. 

“I think I need to speak to the door for it to open. Please step back, the both of you. I don’t want you hurt if something goes awry.” 

You both took a noisy step back, making sure to alert him since he briefly put away his wand in favor of leaning on the stone wall with both hands. 

Ominis sighed to himself, blowing upwards and dislodging part of his hair from his styled quiff. “I can’t believe I’m about to do this.” 

From his mouth came a series of lethargic hisses, stringed together as if in a sentence. The sound seemed to fill the entire room, echoing off the stone walls and bouncing back at you from all angles. It amplified steadily as the hisses from above answered in turn. 

Three of the decorative serpents came to life within the wood, slithering through the holes of the door and gliding along the edges of its carved trenches. A stream of mist puffed from its outer ridges, silencing the voices floating around you with a defined burst of powerful air. It blew the hairs dangling around your face backwards, tickling the tips of your ears and the back of your neck. Every hair on your body stood on edge and you suppressed a shiver. 

The three of you stood silently for a moment, basking in the sudden quiet. It was like a bubble that had mysteriously appeared around your heads spontaneously popped, sending a rush of startling stillness pulsating directly into your ears. 

Ominis was the first to break the spell, clearing his throat around the tightness that rested there, his cheeks glowing with a soft rosacea, and gestured through the now open doorway.

“After you.” 

Your face broke out into an animated grin. “Ominis, you truly possess a rare ability, indeed!” You gently brushed your hand on his shoulder as you passed through the archway. Ominis’ cheeks blushed a darker red, and he reached his hand behind his head, rubbing softly at his neck in embarrassment. 

“Oh, er, it’s nothing.” 

Sebastian stayed in the back of the group, a scowl on his face and his arm crossed tightly across his chest. He glowered at the door like it affronted him, cursing it for allowing his friend to show his rare gift. Stalking towards the next room, irritation heavily prevalent in his steps, he muttered to himself the phrase you had just spoken in a mocking tone. He wasn’t sure which of you he should feel jealous of— you complimenting Ominis, or Ominis getting complimented by you.

Both, he decided. He was jealous of both. 

The three students passed under the bend and entered into the next room of the monolith-lined maze. Once fully inside, the imposing door behind you closed with a loud slam. Sebastian ran at it, pulling desperately at the carvings and pushing with all his strength. Ominis joined him, throwing his weight at it with a grunt. The door didn’t budge. 

“Shit!” Hissed the brunette, punching the door one last time before taking in the room behind him. “Guess we’re stuck in here until we find the next room.” 

The blond leaned back against the wood, an annoyed puff of hair leaving his mouth. “Until we find the next room? How do we even know that there’s a next room? We could very well just be stuck here until we inevitably die of thirst or hunger, whichever happens first.” Ominis turned his head towards the sound of the pacing boy. “Sebastian, we’re eating you first.” 

Sebastian stuttered in outrage, “Why me?!” 

“Because it was your idea to come here in the first place!” 

“Say that to my face you—”

Tired of listening to the boys argue, you lit the tip of your wand and began to explore the new area you had unlocked. It was a large stone room with a gunmetal gate at one end, a giant lock decorating the middle. Spiderwebs covered every corner, starting from the very far bottom corner and stretching to the upper corner across the room. You shuddered, thinking of the large arachnids you had fought not that long ago. You hated spiders. Making your way closer to the gate, you traced your finger along the lock, noting strange shapes in the metal. It seemed like it wouldn’t take a key like normal, it was a puzzle of some sort. 

Turning towards your friends, you tuned back in their argument. They were face to face, arms crossed, with indignant expressions. 

“It’s your ancestor that seems to like puzzles so much!”

“Look in a mirror, Sebastian.” 

“How dare you!” He stuttered for a moment, wracking his brain for a suitable comeback, “Were you dropped on your head as a child?!”

Ominis scoffed, a sarcastic grin stretching his lips, “Oh, bold of you to assume I was ever held—”

“BOYS!” You shouted for them from the gate. “Can you have your lover’s quarrel later? I found something.” 

Their faces instantly softened a fraction at the sound of your voice. They stepped away from each other, embarrassed by their squabble, straightened their cloaks, and walked over to where you stood. 

Sebastian came up to the gate, running his fingers along the lock like you did, before  grasping at the bars and giving it a good shake. The gate rattled against the ground, scraping at the concrete below, but refused to budge. He took a step closer, craning his head around and looking through the small slits in the metal. His collar dug into his neck uncomfortably. Growling, the boy tugged on the offending cloth.

“This bloody collar—”

The freckled boy stood back, looking at the gate once more for a moment before undoing his robe and tossing it unceremoniously to the ground. He shrugged off his jacket and vest next, leaving him just in his white button down and tie. He quickly pushed his sleeves up to his elbows, shaking out his arms in the process, and loosened his tie before undoing a few buttons near the top of his shirt. Grasping his wand between his teeth, Sebastian took hold of one of the horizontal metal rungs in the gate and pulled upwards with all his might. Still no movement. 

A blush began to creep up your neck at the display before you, and you averted your eyes from the very attractive boy. You turned towards Ominis, only to find him in a similar state of undress. He was in the process of carefully undoing the buttons around his cuffs and folding the sleeves to his elbow. You noticed he had neatly gathered his jacket, vest, and robe and placed them atop one of the assorted rocks littering the ground. He began to walk towards the other boy, listening to his struggling grunts of effort. Your blush somehow got brighter.

“Let me try.”

Sebastian took a step back and waved his hands in a “have at it” motion. Ominis approached the gate in a similar stance to the other boy, flexing his forearms and pulling upwards once again. You could see his muscles straining under the material; he may have been slim, but he certainly wasn’t unfit. Eyes skipping from one boy to the other, one with his hands on his hips, panting at the effort he had just exuded, and the other now pondering the gate before him, a finger resting on his chin and hand resting on his other elbow across his chest, you suddenly felt like the room had gotten at least ten degrees hotter. 

In your flustered state, you took a step back away from your companions. You bumped into something just behind you, a piece of sharp stone slicing through your shoulder. Releasing a hiss in pain, you grasped at the wound and quickly turned around, looking for the offending object. Just over your shoulder stood a large stone statue of a snake poised to strike. It was resting on two circular bases, one atop the other with just enough space between to twist them to different directions. You noticed symbols decorating the rims of each— they were the same shape and style as the two on the gate lock. You quickly crouched down and took hold of the stone, turning it until both bases lined up with the ones on the lock. A loud click sounded through the room and the gate before you opened. 

The three of you quickly turned towards the sound, wands poised in front of you ready to strike. Seeing no danger, you all lowered your weapons and turned back towards the statue. You crouched yet again, running your fingertip along the other symbols.

You spoke to the boys over your shoulder, “It’s a puzzle. You have to match the gate symbols to the ones on the snake.” 

Sebastian barked a laugh, coming up behind you and gazing at the sculpture. “Absolutely brilliant, you are! Bet I could do that just as well, eh?” He patted you on your shoulder with pride, not noticing your new injury. You clenched your teeth, a pained hiss escaping through the gaps. The brunette drew his hand back in alarm, looking at the small streak of blood on his palm. He took your arm gently, eyebrows furrowed at the medium sized cut in concern. 

“Stars, you’re hurt! What happened? Are you alright?” 

You placed your hand over one of his, looking at him over your shoulder and forcing a laugh. “That’s how I found the statue in the first place. I’ll be fine, it’s just a scratch.” 

He looked at you with doubt, but let it go, releasing your arm and taking a step back. “If you say so.” 

You stood, shaking out your arms and shoulders. His hands felt like small fires against the cool air of the mausoleum. 

“Okay, Ominis and I will stay here and look for more of these puzzles. Sebastian, you go look in the other room and see if you find anything. Call out if you need backup.” 

Sebastian saluted two fingers in your direction before running at the open gate, grabbing at the taller ledge of the other room and heaving himself up. You watched him disappear onto the other floor. You and Ominis spread out, each taking a different corner of the room. It was bigger than you originally expected, going on for at least the length of a classroom. There was another gate at the very center of the room, the same as the other. Your eyes scanned each corner of your side for the distinct shape of Salazar’s sculpt, calling to Ominis on the other side of the room.

“So, why does Salazar Slytherin like snakes so much, anyway?”

Ominis shrugged, “Some legends say that he was an animagus— that his form was a basilisk.” 

You whistled lowly, “That’s a big snake.” 

The boy chuckled softly, going back to the original silence directly after. Ominis bit his lip, chewing it over what he should say next. He didn’t like the silence, it made him feel like he was back home. The ambiance of the Scriptorium certainly didn’t help, either. 

He took a deep breath before speaking. “Are you truly alright?” 

You smiled, moving over to his side where he was feeling along the wall. You rested your hand on his shoulder, a feather light touch that felt like a heavy weight because of his nerves. “I am, I promise. Please don’t worry about me, everything is fine.” 

He turned his face towards your voice. “I always worry. About the both of you.” 

Your face softened at the confession, bringing your hand up to gently caress his cheek. He leaned into your touch, eyes closing at the contact. Brushing your thumb against his cheekbone, you felt a surge of nerves in your stomach; butterflies bumping around in the inner lining of your gut. You opened your mouth to speak.

“Ominis, I—” 

A short shout cuts through the quiet. You both whip your heads in the direction of the open gate, calling out to the boy on the other side. 

“Sebastian, are you alright?” 

You hear him fumble around for a moment, calling in return, “The statue bit me! Be careful not to get it wrong!” 

Ominis gently grasped your chin, turning it back towards his face. He listened to you expectantly, patiently waiting for you to continue your thought from before. The blond was incredibly nervous, hoping that you couldn’t tell that his hand was shaking. You hesitantly flick your eyes from his irises to his lips, soft and inviting. You wet your own, taking a shaky breath in. 

“What were you saying?” Ominis whispered, his face a hairs length away. 

Your eyes quickly slid over to the left, feeling incredibly hot under the collar all of a sudden. A strange shaped rock caught your attention, curved at the base like a worm. There it was, the final puzzle. You gasped, fumbling out of Ominis’ hold on you and quickly scurrying over to it, turning the dial to the shapes on the other gate. Just as yours slotted into place, a second click could be heard from the room over. The second gate opened with a loud, rusted creak, leading into a third, and what you hoped was final, room.  

Sebastian made his way back over to the two of you, an elated grin stretching across his face as he gazed into the next section of the crypt. Ominis had dropped his arm when you de-tangled yourself, now crossing both in front of his chest with an expression similar to someone who smelled something foul. 

The three of you crept into the room, wands poised for any danger that may come forward. The gate slammed shut behind you once more, trapping you there like before. 

“Salazar Slytherin isn’t done with us yet,” Ominis whispered, a grave seriousness adorning his visage. 

You quietly make your way to the other side of the room where a large, disfigured door lay. It was covered in carvings; scratches marred the corners, flowing dangerously into disturbing images of screaming faces. You felt the air around you grow even colder than before, a shiver running down your spine. There was a flutter of paper to your right, and you swung your wand towards the sound. The tip illuminated an old piece of parchment, covered in dust with sections of it nibbled away by rats. You gently pick up the letter, afraid it would fall apart at the slightest movement. On it was a journal entry of sorts, big looping cursive depicting the fate of the last explorer to make it to this room. You carefully scanned the note, each word filling your chest with dread. Gazing down at the ground near your feet, you quietly gasp at the sight of a decaying skeleton. Its bones were a stark alabaster against the gray concrete floor; spiderwebs weaved throughout the skull and down to the rib cage. 

Noctua Gaunt.

You quietly ushered Sebastian over to where you stood, handing him the final journal entry of the woman before you. He scanned it, his eyes growing larger by the second and his face adopting a grim expression. The freckled boy looked at you for confirmation, and you gestured to the skeleton below. He gasped quietly in his throat, looking over his shoulder at the other Slytherin quietly pacing by the gated entrance. 

You quietly spoke, sympathy lacing your tone, “Ominis, I’m so sorry to have to tell you this. There’s a note over here, next to a body.” You cleared your throat uncomfortably. “It’s Noctua.” 

The boy froze his movements, head tilting down towards the ground in sorrow. “What happened to her?” 

“The note says she was stuck in here, and that she could only open the door with an unforgivable curse. She didn’t have anyone else in here with her, so she was unable to escape.”

You walked up to the now shaking boy, his hands grasping at his opposite elbows to ground himself. You gently moved your hand to his shoulder, stroking the joint with your thumb. He roughly shrugged your hand away, returning to his pacing; his face morphed into a look of pain. His hands ran through his hair in anguish, mussying it up into a wild mane. 

“She died stuck in here, and we will suffer the same fate. We will be stuck down here forever— the next person to enter will find our bodies like we found hers.” 

Sebastian bent down to pick up the note you dropped, studying it closely again. He quickly paced towards you both, anxious nervousness rubbing off of him in waves. 

“Don’t give up quite yet. She says that she couldn’t leave because she was alone and had no one to cast the spell on. There’s three of us— we can get out! We just have to cast the unforgivable.” 

Ominis threw his hands down in agitation, spitting at the other boy, “That’s dark magic, Sebastian! Unforgivables are unforgivable for a reason. You can’t just cast one, you need to mean it, and I don’t particularly want to hurt either of you. Do you?” 

Sebastian’s eyebrows knitted together in irritation, “If it means getting out of here alive and finding a cure for Anne, I’ll do anything I have to.” 

You stepped between the two squabbling boys, holding your hands aloft to keep their distance from the other. This argument was getting heated fast, a darker, more dangerous aura rested under the surface than the argument in the prior room. You spoke to the brunette to your left, “Sebastian, which spell is it? What do we need to do?” 

He scanned the note for a third time, eyes alight in a combination of rage and panic. His expression grew grave, and he felt something lodge itself in his throat. He forced the words out from around it, slightly choked with emotion, “We need to cast the cruciatus curse.” 

Ominis’ wrath was palpable in the air, filling the room like a thick fog. “Absolutely not! There must be another way out. There is no way in Merlin’s name that I’m letting either of you cast that spell!” 

The taller Slytherin growled, throwing the note down on the ground and pacing back to the horrifying door. He ran his hand along the faces, each twisted in pain. He sighed, pushing his anger back down into his chest. It would do them no good to argue with each other. 

“I understand that you’re scared, Ominis, but there isn’t another spell. This is the only way out.” He took a deep, steadying breath, before finishing his thought. “You’re the only one here who knows the spell. It should be you who casts—”

“Are you soft in the head!? I would rather die than cast that spell again. I question our friendship just at the fact that you would ask that of me.” 

Sebastian pressed his forefinger and thumb against the bridge of his nose, pinching it in exasperation. He turned on the balls of his feet towards where you were, silently watching the fight with fright in your eyes. He walked towards you, placing both of his palms on your shoulders and looking deep into your eyes. 

“It’s up to us, then.” He paused, searching your face for something. His eyebrows creased in concentration and something else that you couldn’t name. Fear? Anger? Assurance? You weren’t sure. You weren’t sure you wanted to know. He quickly spun away from you, beginning to pace the length of the room while muttering to himself, tapping his wand against his leg in a sporadic rhythm. You watched from your spot next to the door. It seemed to glow with evil energy, spreading its wicked tendrils around the room like a well-fed devils snare. You could almost feel it crawling its way into your nose and mouth, wrapping around your throat and squeezing the air from your lungs. Rapid breaths escaped from your lips, your heart pulsing rapidly in your chest. Your wide eyes, absolutely swimming in terror, refused to leave the daunting door. You open your mouth to speak, before a resolute voice cuts you off from your thoughts. 

“Cast it on me.” 

Your breath caught in your chest, freezing in your veins as your blood ran cold. Surely you didn’t hear him correctly? He wasn’t asking you to—

“Cast it on me, it’s the only way.” 

You slowly turned in his direction, meeting Sebastian’s beautiful brown eyes, normally filled with warmth but now cold and hard. He stood directly across from you, the glow of the door casting a striking shadow on his youthful face. His demeanor was all straight lines; tight and unmoving in discernment. There was no changing his mind, he had made his choice— his figurative bed. He would rather take the curse himself than have to cast it on either of his closest friends. You saw the determination in his eyes, in the thin line of his lips and jagged edges of his clenched jaw. He was an immovable force, and who were you to try and bend physics to your will? You closed your eyes, gathering your resolve, before meeting his eyes once again. The fire behind your irises burned brightly, a blazing inferno ready to take the entire world into its flames. 

“Alright, if you’re sure. Do you know the spell?”

He looked at the door again in trepidation before meeting your gaze, something unknown still swirling in his irises. “In theory. I can teach it to you.” 

The both of you moved through the motions of the spell, repeating it a few times to make sure you knew what you were doing. The movements in itself felt dirty— wrong, even. Like you weren’t supposed to be privy to this kind of knowledge. Your wand arm felt numb, like the cold was seeping into your very bones and inducing hypothermia. You swallowed thickly, before raising your wand to Sebastian’s chest. You stared into the other’s eyes, both filled with intense worry and fright. 

“Are you ready?”

The brunette took a deep breath through his nose, clearing his mind and attempting to calm his rapid heartbeat. He nodded his head, not trusting his voice, eyes squeezing shut in preparation for the unimaginable pain he was about to experience. 

Your shaking voice spoke, mouth feeling weird around the accursed word.

“Crucio.” 

A slight red spark shot from the tip of your wand, but no pain came to the Sallow boy. His eyes shot open, looking at you across from him. You were shaking like a leaf, staring confused at your wand and then at him. He knitted his brows in angered confusion. 

“What happened? Why didn’t it work?” 

“I-I don’t know.”

Ominis spoke from the back corner where he had sat himself, head leaning heavily on the wall behind him and his arms resting on the tops of his knees. His face was riddled with resignation. “I told you, you have to mean it. You have to want to inflict pain on the other person.” 

Sebastian growled loudly, his teeth clashing together harshly as he clenched his jaw in anger. “If you’re not going to offer anything helpful, just be quiet.” 

You stood in stunned silence at the boy's ferocity. He quickly rounded back towards you, teeth clenched in a near snarl. He pointed at you accusingly,

“Why aren’t you angry? You need to be furious! Yell at me— tell me this is all my fault! Let me have it!” 

You stuttered at the boy, hands shaking even more forcefully now. You knew what he was doing; he was trying to make you hate him. He wanted you to be so angry at him that you could easily cast the curse. Unfortunately, the tactic seemed to have the opposite effect on you. Your heart ached for the boy, listening to each word he said and knowing somewhere in your heart that he thought this of himself. Apologies filled your mouth and spilled out like a waterfall of dismay. They splashed against the ground and the droplets sprayed everywhere, bouncing harshly against the echo chamber walls. 

Sebastian continued yelling, rage pouring from his being, “Stop apologizing! I brought us down here, it’s my fault we’re in this situation to begin with! I’m the reason you have to cast this spell! You didn’t want to come here at all before I basically forced you and Ominis. Look at him, he’s petrified! I did this, cast it on me!” 

Tears gathered in your eyes, horrified terror coursed through your body because of the boy across from you. He was breathing heavily, eyes ablaze and nostrils flaring like a bull. You had never seen him like this before. The anger poured from him and swirled around the air like a dense cloud, permeating every inch of the desolate cavern. Ominis hesitantly stood from the corner, intense worry spreading across his face. He slowly approached the two, steps soft and slow, hands outstretched in front of him like he was dealing with a raging animal. He could smell the tension, feel the red hot heat of fury and agitation.

He hesitantly spoke, his voice shaking with a soft timber, “Sebastian, take a step back. You’re scaring them.” 

The frenzied boy rounded at his friend, snarling and gnashing his teeth, “No, they have to do this!” 

You continued to spew apologies, the words getting swallowed by the thick, maroon fog and evaporating into vapor. Tears cascaded down your frightened face, staring unblinking at your rampaging friend. He was nearly foaming at the mouth in outrage, his eyes wild and hardened. He didn’t look like himself, a complete stranger in his own body. All Sebastian could feel was anger, extremely hot and branding his very soul with a wave of wrath. He could hear your pitiful cries, Ominis’ begging for him to stop. He wouldn’t let you both stand in the way of curing his sister. 

“Oh for the love of—” Sebastian cut himself off, quickly drawing his wand from his sleeve and pointing it at your chest. Images danced behind his eyes; Solomon destroying the plant that could have cured Anne; The blurry image of the goblin that had cursed his sister running from the house, cackling in villainous mirth; finding his parents bodies in the cellar, thick plumes of colored toxic smoke spewing from their cauldron. His vision faded to a striking black. White hot pokers stabbed into his temples, and he cast his wand at you in a blind rage. 

“Crucio!” 

Your screams filled the small room, ricocheting off the walls and burying inside the duo's ears. Ominis slapped his arms around his head, bending over in pain, his sensitive ears amplifying the violent outburst tenfold. His heart shattered in his chest at the sound of your pain, crushing his soul in its devastating grasp. The sound snapped Sebastian out of his trance, his face morphing into one of absolute horror and revoltion at what he had just done. He dropped his wand in shock, stumbling backwards into the nearest wall and sliding down it. Tears welled in his eyes as he watched you writhe on the floor in never-ending pain. He brought his hands up to his mouth, covering it in distress, and whispered curses and pleading apologies against his skin. 

“Oh Merlin, what have I done? I didn’t mean to. I didn’t mean to.” 

Pain— that’s all you knew. Your blood was boiling under your skin, the veins feeling like they were going to burst out of you in a shower of blood at any moment. You clutched your abdomen in agony, nails biting into your arms in desperation. Blood ran down from your hands, coating your sleeves and staining them red. Each organ felt like it was dying slowly, decay seeping deep into your body and coating every surface. Your heart pounded harder than ever before, threatening to combust right through your ribs and out of your chest. Every nerve ending fired off in rapid succession, blazing through your body like a wild inferno and leaving intense burns in its wake. Your head was the worst. It felt like someone stabbed a freezing ice pick through your eye socket, retracting it and pushing back in with each pound of your heart against your skull. Bile rose into your throat, evaporating around the force of your wails of pain. You were curled on the ground, arms tight against yourself in protection. It felt like you would never be happy, be well, again. The torment went on for what felt like years, centuries even, wracking your body with heaving sobs and otherworldly screams. 

In an instant it was over. Sparks of residual magic shot against your skin, shaking your body to its core. The world around you was dark and silent, your senses absolutely fried. A heavy weight was resting against your back, pressing against you with a relieving, grounding pressure. Your hearing returned first, flooding in like you had just rinsed the water from them. 

“Come back to us! Are you alright? Damn it, please say something!” The panicked voice of Ominis filled your electrified brain, the sound grating against your ears. He pressed his palms against your cheeks and raised your head from its spot on the cold ground, wiping the tears from your face. He rested his forehead against yours, listening closely to your shuddering breaths. “Please, give me a sign that you’re still in there.” 

A groan eased its way out of your tight throat, pushing past the damage your screams had done and croaking through like a toad. Ominis sighed in relief, pressing a soft kiss to your temple before gathering you gently in his arms. He stroked your hair, letting the last of the tremors make their way out of your body. Your consciousness faded in and out, lids fluttering open and closed around the blackness resting just behind your eyes. 

“Shush now, don’t push yourself. Everything’s going to be okay.” Ominis gently coaxed your head to rest against his collarbone, his cheek pressing against the roof of your head. He continued his movements along your hair absentmindedly, lulling you into a soft sense of security. 

The blond spoke to the distraught boy behind him, voice devoid of any emotion. “We need to get them to the infirmary.” 

Sebastian broke out of his morose stupor, panic rising in his voice, “We can’t! She’ll know that we’ve used an unforgivable! Not to mention, we’re out past curfew. We’ll likely get expelled, or worse!” 

Ominis sighed inwardly, his head leaning back and smacking against the wall behind him with a dull thunk. He knew that Sebastian was right, no matter how much he wanted to throw the boy to the wolves at that very moment. If they were to bring you to the hospital wing the nurse would ask all three of them questions, and none of them were prepared for that. There wasn’t a single lie in the world that would be that convincing. With a final growl of agitation, he made a decision.

“Fine, the Undercroft, then.” He leveled the taller boy with a harsh glare. “Go get whatever you’re looking for and meet us down there. I hope this trip was worth it, Sallow.” 

The clock tower sounded three times, signaling the beginning of the witching hour. Two students rested against the chaise lounge conjured up out of an old shipping crate. Your shoulder had been dressed, the bandage peeking out from under your ripped blouse. The same was done for the indentations on your arms, half moons lining your biceps in a circle from your sharp nails digging into your skin. Ominis gently stroked your hair from where your head rested on his lap. You had fallen asleep not long ago, your quiet whines of pain tempered out and gave way to startling silence. Anger festered under the boy’s skin, warming him to an uncomfortable degree. It burned in the back of his mind, boiling against the memory of your screams and whimpers of immense pain. He had half a mind to curse Sebastian where he had stood in the Scriptorium. Ominis heard his panicked breaths and whispered apologies after he brought you to your knees, truly realizing the damage that he had done and the dangers of dark magic. Good, he thought. Maybe he’d finally stop moving down the dark path that he was so set on. He deserved to beg for your forgiveness. 

The metal gate of the Undercroft squeaked open, the sound of heavy footfalls following after. Ominis gently picked up your sleeping head, standing from the chaise and lowering you onto one of the many pillows lining the cushions. He quickly paced towards the brunette, eyes blazing with barely concealed fury. Sebastian paid no mind, flipping through the large tomb he had collected from Salazar’s Scriptorium. He looked up and saw the approaching boy, not noticing the very prevalent anger on his face. 

“Ominis, you’re not going to believe what I found—”

The smaller boy slammed into him, pressing his forearm against his neck and shoving him harshly into the nearest wall. His wand was pressed against his chin, glowing menacingly in the candlelight of the hideaway. The blond’s mouth was twisted into a gruesome snarl, teeth looking like fangs in the dim lighting. Sebastian gulped against the arm pressed against his larynx. He dropped the book in surprise, a cloud of dust puffing up from the ground at its harsh landing. Even though Sebastian knew that Ominis couldn’t truly see him, the boy’s heated glare seemed to set fire to his very soul. 

Ominis growled at the taller boy in a gravely low voice, his teeth gnashing around each word. “If you ever hurt them again, you will be dead where you stand. This is the last I want to hear of dark magic, Sebastian. You’ve gone too far; people have gotten hurt. Promise me that you’ll stop— you’ll find some other way to heal Anne, or this friendship will continue no longer.” 

Sebastian nodded as much as he could around his friend’s arm, squeezing the words out of his crushed throat, “Yes, I understand, I’m sorry!” 

The anger seemed to evaporate from the smaller boy in mere seconds, his arms dropping to his sides and his shoulders slumping. He grasped the front of the freckled boy’s shirt, leaning his forehead against his chest with a heavy sigh. 

“I almost lost you both today. I can’t do that, don’t make me live through that again. Please, I can’t lose anyone else, I can’t bear the thought.” 

His shoulders began to shake, tremors rocking his entire body and sending the tears gathering in his eyes down his pale cheeks. He softly cries into the shirt of his friend, grasping harder at the cotton between his fingers and burying his face even deeper. The freckled boy stands still for a moment, startled by the sudden emotional whiplash. He hesitantly raises his arms and circles them around the shoulders of the crying boy, looking over to your sleeping form with guilt swirling in his eyes. 

He had hurt both of his friends today over something he thought was so trivial, so insignificant. He just wanted to find a cure for his sister, not cause undeniable pain to those he loved. He truly was turning into a monster; the dark magic he was so fascinated by had begun to circle around his heart, squeezing it with its thick tentacles. Sebastian buried his head into Ominis’ neck, deeply breathing in his scent. The mildew of the cellar was thick against his skin, but reminisce of his expensive cologne and natural scent, something musky and rich, still lingered there. He focused on it, the familiar smell warming his insides and bringing his heartbeat to a slight increase. 

He hadn’t promised the boy that he’d stop exploring the dark arts, instead twisting his words into something that sounded like agreement. Sebastian knew that he would come to regret that decision, but he couldn’t give up on Anne. She was his flesh and blood, his twin sister. She was everything to him. He knew that he would hurt his two closest friends more than words can express with his decisions, but deep in his heart he believed that he was doing the right thing. 

With a heavy heart, Sebastian basked in the comfort of the Undercroft and the arms wrapped around his waist, praying to anyone who would listen that this wouldn’t be the last time he felt this safe.

AN: Did I make an "Ominis gets pegged" joke? Yes, yes I did.

***

like what you read? here's more!

[dilys-min]

HOMECOMING

Couple: Boothill × Reader

Warnings: None. Just plain fluff

Boothill - a term indicating the resting place of gunslingers who have fallen and also the name of the silver hair galaxy ranger. 

The day when he gave up the flesh and blood which he is blessed with, letting it be melted and molded into refined steel and iron, he wanted to cry in the ancient language of the land he grew up to be so in love with but he couldn’t. And so, his cries were lost, burned to ashes along with what used to be dear to him.

When he met you, Boothill finally found something that he had thought long gone. Someone gazing upon him, except he was no Arcturus. He just a dying star trying to find a constellation where he belongs in this endless universe.

You were, for the lack of a better word, strange. You would often ask him about the most bizzare thing. Boothill still remembers the time when you asked if the bullets would get stuck in his teeth when he swallowed them ( the question had earned you a light smack from him). Even your solicitude was too perplexing for him. On some days, when his mind is plagued with the scorched land on his farm, the ghosts of those who he failed to protect; your hand will ghost over his face, caressing it gently. You would ask him in a soothing tone, not too quiet to go unheard of but not too loud to sound demanding. And when he only gives vague answers, you do not press further but press lingering kisses onto his forehead and he would pull you close, murmuring incomprehensible words into your hair. It was scary but you were there; you were there and it was enough.

You were odd, indeed, but in which ways that he is attracted to at the same time. 

Being with you also has taught him to be more observant as well. He would rather die than to admit it but he has unknowingly picked up the habit of watching your tactics. There was something oddly domestic about the way you would hum when you are cooking or the way you would skipping all the way down to your favorite bakery. What have a person grown up with to be so appreciative of what others perceive as the norms? 

Gunpowder and iron are what make his essence, always bitter and remorseful. While yours is always vibrant and warm. It is a moth’s nature to be drawn to something bright and shining, even if it will burn them to death. And like a moth to flame, Boothill always finds himself circling back to you no matter how hard he tries to fly away.

 For someone who had spent the majority of his life navigating through the vast continent of Aeragan- Epharshel, Boothill finds himself at loss, like a sailor finding his way in the middle of the storm, he is undecided. Some days, he is torn between hiding you in the deepest corner of the galaxy, away from all harm or letting you be as you are. Being with him would sooner or later become your demise and he silently curses himself for this knowledge. If he had been a fool, he would have easily believed that his arms were meant to caress but to chase and hurt under the cover of a man he used to be.

Boothill has never been one to believe in reincarnation. But maybe in another life, where he could finally be a man who grows up with the greenery of the plains he trouts and the endless rivers where the water just as clear as the sky of his hometown , he hopes that in his arms is where you would find comfort and peace, just like he did in yours.

[bullet-prooflove]

Clean: Trey Cahill x Reader

Tagging: @@mariashane @kj77 @tiredmarshmellowuwu @choppedgalaxynerd @herwordslikebutterflywings @flopiboni @words-and-seeds @aiko24k @@kane-nero-6 @wabi-sabi1090 @kmc1989

Trey used to traffic drugs. His dealer used to give him ten grand to transport a few bricks of coke over the border into Arizona under the guise of delivering one of the classic cars he’d been restoring to a buyer.

It was usually a five hour trip to the stash house. He’d drop off the merchandise, take his cut and then get high in a shitty roadside motel. He’d stay there for days until he was right again to drive the five hours back to Vegas.

He doesn’t do that crap anymore, he hasn’t since Folsom got him into rehab two years ago. That’s when he got serious about restoration, started turning a profit on the garage, building a client base. He may not ask where all of his spare parts come from for the sake of plausible deniability but the heavy stuff, he’s out of it.

If he gets caught it’s not just his life he fucks up, it’s yours too. You’re already getting shit for dating a former criminal, you will never admit it to him but Folsom had filled Trey in after the scuffle with the defence attorney. That stuff, it reflects badly on you, it puts you under scrutiny.

He’s kept his nose clean since then. He’s stopped going to the bars with all the shady shit going on, lost contact with the people who could suck him back into that life, tossed his burner phones. He’s gone completely legit.

He has his head tucked under the bonnet of a 1969 Chevy Corvette when Killian turns up at the garage. There’s a problem with the starter, he’s still trying to figure it out when he hears someone clearing their throat behind him. He knows it’s Killian, even before he glances over his shoulder. He’s been trying to get a hold of him for days now, putting the word out through the people they used to have in common for Trey to get in touch because he needs the cars to move product.

“You’ve been ignoring my calls.” Killian says as Trey straightens up and turns to face him.

He’s leaning against the hood of a Stingray Trey’s been tuning up, his hands are tucked into the pockets of his black leather jacket. He looks more haggard than the last time Trey saw him. Dipping into his own supply, Trey thinks.

“That’s not my life anymore.” Trey tells him as he picks up the rag from his work bench and uses it to clean the grease from his hands. “I thought you would have got the message when I stopped buying drugs from you.”

“Hm.” Killian says as he holds up a baggie of coke between two fingers. “So I assume you don’t want this.”

This is how it starts, he remembers. A freebie, a little fun, before he knows it he’s five grand in the hole, doing ‘jobs’ to pay off his debt.

“Do you think I’m really that weak?” Trey laughs, crossing his arms over his chest trying to ignore the twitch in his fingers. “That I’m going to jump back into bed with you because you offer me a bump.”

“I think if I leave this here.” Killian says setting the baggie down on the workbench alongside Trey. “I’ll be getting a call from you in a couple of hours’ time for a little more.”

“I wouldn’t bet on it.” Trey bites back and Killian gives him that smile, the one that sets Trey’s teeth on edge.

“Once an addict…” Killian says, pushing the baggie towards him.  “…always an addict.”

It’s a few hours later that you turn up at the garage. The lights are still on despite the late hour. Part of you is worried and the other part pissed because Trey was supposed to meet you for dinner tonight at that little Chinese place you both like. You’d sat there for an hour before you realised he wasn’t coming. He hasn’t been picking up his calls or his texts.

When you step inside you find him hunched over the workbench with his head in his hands. Your hand comes to rest on his shoulder and he flinches at the sensation before he turns his head to look at you. His eyes are red rimmed, the vibrant blue shining through the frustrated tears as the muscle in his jaw clenches.

“Trey.” You say softly and he takes a sharp inhale of breath before he tilts his head towards something on the workbench.

“I need you to get rid of it.” He says, his voice pained as you follow his gaze to the baggie of coke. “If I touch it…”

He trails off because he doesn’t need to say anything else.

Two years sobriety, everything he’s worked for, it’ll be gone and he can’t go back to that place, not when he’s come so far. But the thing is he can’t seem to help himself. His mouth is dry, his fingers itch, he can feel himself giving in and he’s powerless to stop it.

You pick up the baggie and tuck it into your pocket. The relief is visible, Trey exhales for the first time in what seems like hours, the tension seems to flood out of his body as he uses the back of his hand to wipe across his eyes.

“I need to know what happened tonight.” You say quietly. “How this ended up here.”

If it were anyone else including Folsom he’d lie, say one of his customers dropped it because he wouldn’t want them to know about all the bad shit he’s done in the past. But it’s you and he’s always been honest with you and that’s not about to change today.

He tells you everything, from the product he used to move for Killian, to the nights he spent high as kite. You listen quietly, your hand holding his and he’s grateful for that because being here with you, it keeps him anchored, it reminds him that he’s more than just his addiction.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you.” He says quietly as he clasps your hand to his cheek. “Really I don’t.”

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[awritesthings1]

How to Disappear (Chapter 3)

Anakin Skywalker x Reader

Word Count: 3.6k

Summary: You can only find peace for so long before truths reveal.

ao3 link

-

With each appearance, you were beginning to remember more. Still, that familiar haze of confusion lingered, becoming a routine that your body grew to know. First would be a buzzing sensation trailing down your back. Then came the dropping sensation as if you were falling from the sky. Eventually, you would kneel over to balance yourself on the ground to shake the feeling of falling. It was then you would find the blue glow, lighting up whatever you were near. Pieces fell into place, and you figured out you were a fragment of the Force without too much surprise. Places were sometimes hard to figure out, although you seemed to have a vague memory of planet names and their environments.

You weren’t sure why it was randoms bits of information or the beginning of your apparition that you could remember. Except one sign. The hope you clung to was found in a silhouette of a person who was always imprinted at the back of your eyes. Never had you forgotten that silhouette. You could never be sure if it was a figure from your past or perhaps a vision.

This morning you had appeared by a beautiful lake. Trees lined the edges, their colorful leaves teasing past your cheek. In the shade there was a marble statue of a women bowing beneath the sun. You think she looks like a guardian by the way she watches over the wildflowers, protecting all the little lives that lived in the overgrown grass. Her hair was braided into flowers and you can’t help but think of how radiant she looked. The sound of a waterfall draws your eyes to a cliff that hung over the water. It breathed life into the earth, humming through the sand on the shore up into the dirt beneath your toes.

A smile crept onto your lips. In the distance lay towering mountains, concealed in rolling clouds. Velvety blues and vibrant greens painted the landscape. You hoped the seam of your memory would peel open just to remember the hypnotic colors. Trees danced in harmony to the tender ballads swelling over your head. They hung like words at the tip of a tongue.

Nearing the shore, your feet dip beneath the crisp lap of water. Above, the sun caressed the surface leaving a blinding reflection. A shine so delectable it was calling you to bury your shoulders beneath and feel its charming touch. Without another thought, you are splashing deeper into its clutches, lifting your robes as you laugh.

Twirling around the lake, you imagined yourself as a real girl. With a beating heart, the warmth of a kiss pressed against a cheek, and hopes of a future.

Through the ripples of the water, there is a girl. Her beaming smile melts your thoughts to sand. As your eyes widen, hers follows. She mirrors you, reaching for your hand as yours reach for hers. They meet at the surface, a ghost of a touch. A laugh slips past your lips. You were alive. If only for a fleeting moment, it was the evidence you needed to know that in this lake you were real.

With hair stuck to your face, your legs kicked through the weight of your robes. Water dripped down your jaw, leaving an invisible kiss at the end. You could laugh here. And so you did, letting it trail through the trees, down the valley, and up to the highest cliffside. The world could do with some laughter.

Although all dreams must come to an end. Your blue flush stains the water, the color contrasts against the natural tint. It was a twisted hoax. Damned to be a blue light for all eternity, it wasn’t fair. The Force was cruel in the way it would show you desires like this only to take it away.

-

Vader had seen you in a dream. It was a nice contrast from the nightmares. You lay on your back, floating around a lake. There was something about the scene that looked like it had been touched by an angel. Everything was perfect. Flowers beautifully woven into vines that hung from old wise trees. What caught his breath was how you didn’t look like a ghost. Under the water your glow blended into the sapphire depths. Almost like a real girl.

Your body belonged in that image, stitched into the back of his eyelids to see when sleep overcame him. Vader sat with that picture seared into his mind all day. He kept you there in a shield between the bones of his ribs. It was there he could protect you.

As the days passed, his body felt more like a shell. A ghost that roamed the halls of his ship, wandering in search of something. The Emperor had noticed too, reminding him of his place in the galaxy: a living machine built to serve the Empire. After that, Vader became more careful putting his suit on, accounting for the growing red lashes on his back. He thinks you probably look more alive than he did.

Vader lives like that for a while. Awaiting your next visit becomes a fantasy he clings to. Maybe you were out there appearing to others. His gut twisted at that. He hoped he was the only one. Had you interfered in any of his endeavors? Were you mediating with the rebels?

His thoughts hungered for answers. With each venture across the galaxy, he kept his eyes open for glimpse of you. Every shade of blue sent his blood ablaze, thinking maybe this time it will be your face. It never is.

On Naboo, he walks through the streets, the Emperor trailing behind. Stormtroopers formed a line to their sides as they march toward the palace. It’s different than how he remembered it. The peoples’ expressions are set into a solemn stare, moving mechanically. Gone is the bubbling chatter that roamed the streets long ago. They are dressed in expensive gowns and shiny jewels, repelling like magnets as Vader nears. Naboo had flourished under The New Order, mostly because it was the Emperor’s homeland. It came at a cost though. The people were slaves to power and gifted riches for their compliance.

Shadowing Vader is the Emperor who holds a smile to his face. The march was meant to strengthen ties with the people until eventually they made it to the palace to meet with the royals. Not that they had any power either. Anything to keep up an illusion.

A cry startles the crowd. Vader pauses the march as the stormtroopers point their blasters in the direction of the sound. Furious hands part amid the crowd, scratching to the front of the clearing. It is a woman, wearing a shaggy dress that is torn at the hem. Her grey hair is tangled in sweat with a thin layer of dirt covering her arms and legs. There are bruises under her eye swelling from damage.

“Have you seen my daughter?” She pants, wide eyes staring up at him through the line of troopers.

Beaming from a little device clutched in her hands is a hologram of a girl. She looked young with a smile across her lips and warm eyes as if she had been caught mid laugh. On her shoulders hung Jedi robes that looked too big for her body. What catches his attention is the Padawan braid sat behind her ear. Vader walks closer to get a better look but before he has a chance, the troopers are clutching her arms, dragging her away. She fights against them, and he calls out for them to wait. They stop for a moment, just enough time for him to get a good look. The Emperor shouts over the crowd and then the woman is being carried away. Tears leak down her cheeks as she screams into the helpless crowd. Her feet dig into the ground but it is no use.

Vader wants to shout out and demand they stop but he knows he cannot overrule the command of his Master. They kneel her against a wall and one shoves a blaster into her head. Her figure gets buried away in the crowd who push and shove to get out of the way. His feet are already moving when he hears the shot fire. Cries of children carry down the street, wailing into their mother’s arms.

Vader guards his Force presence for the rest of the walk, holding a defensive shield over lurking thoughts. Who was the girl in the hologram? She appeared to be a Padawan, but he could not recall seeing her around the Temple. He would remember a face like that, especially those eyes. They tied around a knot in his head, never quite fitting into place. Perhaps she was a relative of someone he had met a long time ago.

When they reach the steps of the palace, Vader looks up from the ground to the towering domed roof. Behind it, he sees the vibrant blue sky.

His heart stops.

It was your eyes.

-

The stormtroopers had confiscated the device with your hologram after the death of your mother. Luckily for Vader, he had managed to intercept the ordered destruction. He suspected his Master had wanted to destroy any evidence of the Jedi. Sleuthing through records proved to not be an option either, after they had all been destroyed with the rise of the New Order. And so he kept the little piece of you buried in his pocket as he traveled the galaxy.

The dreams came back shortly after. The meadow with the lake, your laughter, the wildflowers. You haunted him and he loved every second because for just a moment, he could imagine a sense of freedom. On the rocks he would sit, watching you float around the glistening water. He could imagine the pulsing heartbeat of the lake causing ripples in the wind. Those eyes watch him from afar, embracing him through the Force. You drew him in with that smile. Always so inviting, he would trudge his boots into the water until the forgiving blues lull him to sleep.

He could not dare to dream about you any longer, it wasn’t enough. A few days pass and before he knows it, his ship is landing on the fields of Naboo. Dressed in his dark robes, Vader lets the Force guide him to the lake. Spring breaks lose as he trudges past the trees. Light air wedges through the holes of his Force, breathing hope into old scars. And a wave of untouched laughter breaks through that final barrier once he reaches the clearing.

There you are, just like in his dreams. Arms gliding through the water, robes clinging to your body, a smile to your face. From where Vader stood, you looked alive, happy. A scene so surreal it deserved to be worshipped in secret on the tallest mountain with the highest praise. He feels unwelcome, an ugly blood stain soaking into the roots. Nothing in comparison to you, no power could bring him close.

The sound of trickling water breaks the tension. You are standing waist deep watching him, a gasp hanging from your lips. He blinks the sun out of his eyes, swiping a tongue over chapped lips. Breathing you in is the only think he knows how to do.

Your bare feet clamber up the slope of bank, holding the soaking robes in your fists.

“Have I met you before?”

Vader bites his lip.

-

Together you rest in the overgrown grass. A flower is between your fingers as you braid it into the stem of another. You wonder if the chain will undo when you disappear. To the side the boy sits, hunched over a bent knee. Vader was his name, although you were doubtful. He murmured it as if he was unsure himself.

“Last time I saw you… you were happy,” he swallows.

Vader can’t meet your eyes, staring down at the grass. The lump in his throat passes with a deep breath. It’s a lie. He had explained how you had appeared to him before and although it wasn’t under the best circumstances, he would sleep better if you thought it was. Because he knew how these moments always ended. In festering dark corners, tucked away from all light, forgotten by all life. Only for them to live through memories of his own. You were blessed in that sense.

Was it guilt? No. It was shame. Vader was a coward, hiding behind his mistakes. And he would keep letting you down until his last breath. It didn’t matter if he tried not to, because in the end he had failed you. Still a broken man, a reservoir running out of water. No matter how many pieces you collected off the ground, he would drop more. He had failed your mother the same way, a seemingly endless spout of errors.

You seemed to be that turning point for him. The tap twisting his gut further into conflict. He hated the way you did that. Your pitiful hands on him in need, your stolen breaths smothering his chest, and that lifeless glow you carried. All building those feelings he had long repressed: anguish, remorse, weakness.

Your mouth recoils at his silence. You want to know what happened, it was your existence that hung in the air, you had a right to know. Although he cuts you off before you could get a word in.

“You had a family that loved you,” he pursed his lips. Your eyes widen. Leaning closer to listen, you hang onto each word. “They never gave up their searches.”

He buries his face in his hands.

“They didn’t know I died?” your voice hitches, “Did you know them?”

His scar itches, an irritating pain that digs deeper into the skin. He shouldn’t be doing this. Maybe if you knew the truth you would finally leave and never come back.

“No, I…” he trails off, massaging the knots in his temple. “Your mother was roaming the streets with your hologram.”

Your jaw hangs, eyes wildly darting between his. “She’s here?”

“No.” The Force trembles from the weight of his words, wrapping around your shuddering shoulders. In a vice grip it holds you, a ricochet of his anger.

Although you couldn’t care because you had a mother. A mother that was looking for you. Would she have your hair? Would she recognize you? Was she the shadow in your dreams that called out to you?

You jump when Vader grabs your hand, fingers softly threading between yours. It’s his flesh one. Rubbing over your knuckles, you feel his callouses over your skin. Prominent veins web up his arm, concealed by the dark robes. Your hand squeezes in response as he shifts to kneel. You think he might pull you into a hug, but he closes his eyes as if he were meditating.

Around you the Force begins simmering, tapping gently along your skin. Confused, you try to pull away from his hold, but he tightens his grip. Alarmed, you try tugging again. Your ghostly hand doesn’t budge. Panicking, the Force builds, drumming through your body. Dark energy caresses the light in the pit of your chest.

“Vader!” you warn, still trying to wiggle away.

Your blue glow flickers. Sharp claws teasingly trail from around your neck up to your head, lighting your frame on fire as it goes. It rings around your neck, choking as if you could breathe. The pain insistently licks at the connection that tethers you to the mortal world. You cry out, flinching and jerking through the torture. Vader’s face is turned to the sky, eyes swallowed by a lurching darkness.

Behind the darkness, Vader focuses on his life Force. Palming a ball in his hand, he drains it like water. Flowing through his hold, ebbing at the shores of your spirit. Harnessing power from his very soul, he finds you there. Howling in his ear, thrashing at the fabric of his essence. You stand on a rocky plane, beaming with the same light of a moon, tears leaking gold. The surface looks like a flat asteroid floating around the depths of space without any light, only ghostly figures wandering. Souls cry out, pulling at his robes, but he was only here for one. Tearing at their grip, he grabs for you, missing by a finger. Your feet stumble back toward the edge where the void met rock. He panics, lunging for you before you could fall. It must be a cruel joke when a hand lurches at his shoulder preventing him from reaching you in time. He watches in horror as your body disappears into the void. Left alone to the mercy of the spirits, he is swallowed whole, crying out into darkness.

Vader’s body is thrown back against the grass when he is ripped out of the trance. The energy dissipates back into the Force as he gathers himself. To cheat death is a power reserved only for the most powerful. For you he would draw every drop within himself to achieve it.

It kills him too; never being able to understand why his feelings for you are so strong. He had run in circles trying to pinpoint when he started to care, but always found himself back at the start. What was it about you? Was it that you are his ghost? That you were the only one that ever came back for him? The one who never gave up? He couldn’t reason why you were such a high priority; you simply were.

Behind him, the radiant lake lays dull, the meadow seemingly growing void of energy. Once green healthy plants sink to the dirt lifelessly. The life Force that buries in the roots of the land are left empty, howling into still winds, crying in agony. They never giving up without a fight, leaving a putrid stench that burns at Vader’s throat. He is unforgiving in the way nothing disturbs him. Not even as the land dies beneath his feet because he sees a faint movement fade between the decomposing stems in the distance.

When Vader finds you, he sees the wilting wildflowers straight through your chest.

Forever a ghost.

His heart pumps shamefully, full of the life he could not give you. He had failed once again. Always the fool, never the wiser.

As he nears closer, your body recedes like the shores of the lake. Your hands are perched at the brittle grass, ready to run deep into what was left of the trees. It’s eerily quiet as you wait. Your body flickers through the silence, trembling because you feel darkness flowing under the dirt. Tears flood the meadow, decay greedily sipping at your sorrow. His manipulation of the Force had caused this.

Vader reaches for you but like in the trance, you flinch away. It’s his tipping point. Gritting his teeth as frustrated unveiled sobs wrack his shoulders. “I thought I could save you,” he cries.

He feels hopeless, crumpled up, discarded. Not the all-powerful Sith he thought he was. Never able to save anyone.

You fear him. His darkness is strong, a catalyst to all rash actions. This man had bent the will of the Force under his command to bring you back from the dead. “You have too much darkness,” you choke, suffocating under the pressure of his presence.

“I need it,” hostility laces in his voice. He notices a faraway sadness on your face. As if you were grieving him, as if he were the dead one.

You bite down on your tongue. The man is spiraling down a dark hole he can’t reach the top of. No one was there to reach out a helping hand. “No. You need balance. How could you expect to resurrect me with pure darkness,” you speak defiantly. You think he might rip your head off.

He seethes, the scar across his eye throbs the same searing pain he felt when he first got it. “I don’t have a choice. I am nothing without this power. I am nothing without my Master.”

You want to scream at him. Pound your fists to drum some sense of realization. If you could, you would will the lake to him, just so he could reflect on himself. His path was lined with nails, you hoped one day he would look down and notice his bleeding feet. “What master breeds the life out of their own apprentice? Festers power that only wills destruction? How could you ever help anyone?” You beg.

The words twist in his gut. He towers over you threateningly, “I tried to save you!”

“With the power of darkness. I am an embodiment of light, of balance.” You have to reach into the Force, calling for any drops of light as his darkness edges at your tone.

Vader scowls. You speak as if you knew anything. As if your memories were intact. His nose flares, anger coursing through his body with no escape. Nowhere to release. He has to turn around as his thoughts grow darker.

His cape rolls over dead wildflowers, wilting trees curl when he marches past. You watch him go, feeling some of the tainted energy trailing after him. It could have been a nightmare, but you knew too well to doubt the Force. Vader was very real. A man cut so deeply he was left blind, reaching in the dark for a sense of purpose.

Reaching into your pocket, you fish out the small metal ball that had fallen out of his robes during his trance. You had snatched it in your struggle hoping it would have the power to push him off. It hadn’t.

Pressing a small button, a hologram lights up. At that moment, you drop onto all fours, clutching at your head as it throbs. Memories flash and fade across your vision. Smiles, tears, pain, laughter. It all melts into a pool, tugging at your motionless heart.

You remembered.

Everything.

[jaydaaasworld]

The Love Beneath the Stars

a/n: just a little something tell me if you want more

In the quaint town of Serendale, where cobblestone streets meandered through charming cottages and blooming gardens, lived a young woman named Clara. She was known for her kind heart and captivating smile, which could brighten even the gloomiest of days. Clara spent her mornings working at the local bakery, filling the air with the sweet aroma of freshly baked bread and pastries.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon and painted the sky in hues of pink and orange, Clara decided to take a walk by the serene lake on the outskirts of town. The lake was a special place for her, a quiet retreat where she could unwind and reflect. As she walked along the water's edge, she noticed a figure sitting on the old wooden pier, sketching in a notebook.

Curiosity piqued, Clara approached quietly, not wanting to disturb the artist. She was surprised to see it was Lucas, a young man who had recently moved to Serendale. Lucas was an artist who had come to the town seeking inspiration for his paintings. He had a reputation for being quiet and reserved, often lost in his own world of colors and creativity.

"Hello, Lucas," Clara greeted softly, her voice blending with the gentle rustle of the evening breeze.

Lucas looked up, his eyes meeting Clara's. For a moment, he seemed startled, but then a warm smile spread across his face. "Hello, Clara. What brings you here?"

"I often come here to enjoy the peace and beauty of the lake," she replied, taking a seat beside him on the pier. "What are you sketching?"

Lucas turned his notebook towards her, revealing a beautiful drawing of the sunset reflected on the lake's surface. The colors were vibrant and lifelike, capturing the magic of the moment perfectly.

"It's beautiful," Clara said, her eyes shining with admiration. "You have an incredible talent."

"Thank you," Lucas replied, his cheeks flushing slightly. "This place inspires me. The tranquility, the way the light dances on the water—it's magical."

They sat together in comfortable silence, watching as the stars began to twinkle in the twilight sky. Clara shared stories of her life in Serendale, her dreams of opening her own bakery one day, and her love for the simple joys in life. Lucas, in turn, spoke of his travels, his passion for art, and the solace he found in painting.

As the night grew darker, the connection between Clara and Lucas deepened. They found themselves drawn to each other's company, discovering a shared appreciation for the beauty in the world around them. It was as if the stars had aligned to bring them together.

In the weeks that followed, Clara and Lucas spent more time together, their bond growing stronger with each passing day. Lucas would visit the bakery in the mornings, sketching Clara as she worked, capturing the light in her eyes and the grace in her movements. In the evenings, they would walk by the lake, talking about their dreams and aspirations, finding solace in each other's presence.

One starlit night, as they sat on the pier watching the moonlight dance on the water, Lucas took Clara's hand in his. "Clara," he began softly, "meeting you has brought a new light into my life. You've shown me the beauty of love and the joy of companionship. I don't ever want to be without you."

Clara's heart swelled with happiness. "I feel the same way, Lucas. You've brought so much joy and inspiration into my life. I can't imagine a future without you by my side."

With the stars as their witnesses, Lucas leaned in and kissed Clara, a tender, heartfelt kiss that sealed their love. From that moment on, they were inseparable, their love story blooming like the flowers in Serendale's gardens.

Years later, Clara and Lucas opened a bakery and art studio together, a place where their passions intertwined. The walls were adorned with Lucas's paintings, and the air was filled with the sweet scent of Clara's pastries. They had created a life full of love, creativity, and happiness, proving that true love, like the stars above, shines brightest in the darkest of times.

And so, under the starlit skies of Serendale, Clara and Lucas lived happily ever after, their love story a testament to the magic of finding a kindred spirit and cherishing the simple, beautiful moments in life.

I hope you enjoyed the love story! I have the next chapter ready if you'd like

[ofallthingsnasty]

I love the thought of a feisty darling with Doffy a lot, but there is also something about you just... giving up. Mentally checking out. Growing numb. The lights are on but no one is home, that kind of thing.

And really, it's all about the contrast of you being nothing but a shell of your former self, colorless to the vibrant decadence, the omnipresent opulence that surrounds you. Put in shrill but expensive clothes that you find neither exhilarating nor distasteful, just treated like a mannequin, limp shoulders heavy with jewelry; that's how you shuffle through the many chambers that are now your home. Restless and sluggish, completely aimless, just wandering to keep the noise in your head at bay. Never interested in one particular subject (well, maybe except for one thing - fleeing from Doflamingo for just another moment, another minute), you just rot away in bed if no one pulls you out of it by early noon or stare out of the window until the sky changes color. You eat what's put in front of you - sometimes too little, sometimes too much, you don't care. It tastes all the same, be it meat or dessert - and it might as well be slop to you, it's all turned into some kind of porridge when you're done grinding it between your teeth, anyway. And you let Doflamingo poss you, preen you, dote on you - it doesn't matter what you want, what you feel - there is no point in doing anything other than what he says and then to earn your pitiful, grey moments of nothingness. He took all joy from you, inch by inch, and now you're so hollow you're almost grateful for the void that has been left behind - it's easier this way, the complete surrender makes every atrocity he commits easier to bear.

That monotony, that dull itch of life could be endurable, you think. Just getting swept up by the current of emptiness, by the shifting of hours into days into weeks into months - that you could stand, even if it meant pissing your life away for drab boredom. If Doflamingo was a man of voyage and you had to just play the darling spouse seeing him once, twice every few months? Ah, life would be grand, almost, with the way that the sun doesn't light up your eyes anymore. (Because then, you'd just fall into that blissful trance until he returned, time and time again.)

But he's not. The devil loves his home and comforts and you on top of all of that, so he keeps his too-big hands around your shoulders when you watch the ice melt in your untouched drink, opens that mouth wide and grins something awful while he lounges with his prized possession stiff and cold by his side. All the fake-blue pools and umbrella-specked cocktails he provides you with look bizarre right next to you, who doesn't even spare them a half-hearted smile of fake gratitude. And when you're by the water he likes to lounge at and he keeps you barely covered in something that's hot pink and itchy, you don't even feel the heat of the sun beating down on you. Maybe you would have been self-conscious many, many moons ago - all of you on display, a millimeter next to the epicenter of gaudy and excessive that is the king of Dressrosa himself - but no, you don't even care to sit upright. Elbows perched on your thighs, you stare at the water dancing under light, not really seeing. The only thing that bleeds through your ennui is his skin on yours, how his warmth seeps right into you. How it shakes when he laughs, how he rubs little circles into the fat of your back when he doesn't - but he never takes that hand away, either. Always there, always loud and colorful next to your dull face, your tired eyes. He appears to care, goes through the motions - from touching you, talking to you, holding you, fucking you - but it's all fake, all just a little play he likes to engage in, one that you have given up on. And while he shines and shines like some dark stone someone polished too many times - you tarnish more and more.

You're just so tired now. So utterly lifeless.

[soob1nn]

MY HOUSE FRIENDS - HOGWARTS DR

masterlist

While they may not be as close as the enchanted unity, these friends still hold a special place in my life, adding unique colors to my Hogwarts experience. Each of them brings their own charm and individuality to the tapestry of our friendships.

DAPHNE OPIAN

Let me introduce you to Daphne Opian, a spirited Hufflepuff who happens to be one of my delightful roommates. She's currently in her fifth-grade year at Hogwarts and brings an aura of warmth and cheerfulness to our dormitory.

Daphne's heart belongs to the world of cinema. She's an avid lover of films, from the grandeur of magical epics to the humble muggle-made masterpieces. You'll rarely see her without a muggle camera in hand, capturing moments from both the wizarding and non-magical realms. Her collection of photographs is like a window into different worlds, filled with magical creatures, mesmerizing landscapes, and the essence of life itself.

But her dream is what truly sets her apart. Daphne aspires to open a Hogwarts newspaper that would bring the latest news and stories from the castle and beyond to our magical community. With her unwavering dedication, love for storytelling, and the ability to seize the perfect moment with her camera, we all believe that her dream is destined to come true, and Hogwarts will be a more vibrant place with her journalistic talents.

ALLISON XUNAI

Allison Xunai, a fellow Hufflepuff in her fifth-grade year, is a friend with a flair for humor. While we're close, we might not be as tightly knit as the enchanted unity, but her infectious laughter always brightens our days.

Allison has a knack for spilling the tea, keeping us entertained with the latest gossip and stories. Her wit and storytelling skills are a source of joy for our group.

She's an avid fan of fantasy and romance books, always lost in the enchanting worlds they create. Unfortunately, when it comes to schoolwork, especially studying, it's safe to say she'd rather be playing chess, her favorite pastime.

Allison adds a delightful touch of laughter and storytelling to our lives, making Hogwarts a bit more magical in her own way.

AARON BEUMONT

Aaron Beumont is a proud Hufflepuff, and his resilience shines through despite the challenges he faces. Born to strict parents, he tries his best, although sometimes the road is tough, and he encounters hurdles along the way.

What sets Aaron apart is his courage to openly embrace his bisexuality, making it clear that he's "bisexual as heck." He believes in living authentically and being true to himself, even if it means facing adversity.

The journey hasn't been easy, and Aaron has experienced moments of intense distress, leading to panic attacks. His struggles run deep, as he's faced life's darkest moments, attempting to end it all on two occasions. This is a testament to the strength it takes to carry on.

To channel his emotions and thoughts, Aaron finds solace in writing, using it as a therapeutic outlet to express himself and explore his inner world. It's his way of shining light into the darkest corners of his heart.

In brighter moments, he finds solace and inspiration in museums, where he can lose himself in the beauty and history on display. Aaron's story is a journey of resilience, self-acceptance, and the power of creative expression.

ERIC DAVIES

Eric Davies, a Hufflepuff who's a year ahead of us, is an intriguing character in our lives. He's more than just a friend; he's the best buddy of my brother, Edward, which practically makes him family.

Known as the "King of the Party," Eric has an innate ability to bring any gathering to life. He has a magnetic personality that draws people in, and he's a master at ensuring everyone has a fantastic time.

While he might have a bit of a reputation as a womanizer, it's hard to deny his charisma and charm. Eric knows how to make people feel special and appreciated, which can be quite captivating.

He's a summer enthusiast, loving the warmth of the sun and the carefree vibes that the season brings. You can always count on him to organize memorable summer get-togethers.

In addition to his party prowess, Eric is a creative soul. He writes stories and songs based on his own life experiences, allowing his unique perspective to shine through in his art. He's the kind of person who can turn everyday moments into something beautiful with his words and melodies.

[cerisetial]

a field of flowers for the vigilant yaksha ft. xiao x gn! reader (they/them pronouns used)

synopsis: after so much time spent pursuing his duties and responsibilities, even he needs his rest and a field of multicoloured beauties just so happens to be the perfect form of it

quick note — more of a xiao centered piece so it's hardly considered an x reader :) it's implied in the end however so i'll still tag it as such!

WARNINGS: includes spoilers for xiao's backstory, very minimal mentions of blood (?) i think this is all that needs to be tagged but feel free to mention if ever i missed anything :)

eons and eons of suffering there he stands, once so pure and so clean but now blood is smeared on his hands. foes lay on the ground no longer breathing and moving, for the wrath brought down by this yaksha, it's enough to have someone beg endlessly for mercy.

for hundreds of years he has roamed to take life and bring forth death, and for the remaining there he is guarding his beautiful land.

no rest for the wicked, for they should all suffer. those who committ grave sins must be left alone just to wallow and wither.

in his most vulnerable moments where he can't help but scream at the pain. in the moments where his karma slowly makes him break. his strong and lean body seemingly fragile, littered with scars and bloodied. at his state, could someone really see him as the conqueror of demons, or just a poor little soul wishing to dance with the stars and sing tunes to a land afar?

he was once a weak little thing, forced to do things against his will by evil doers who wished for nothing more than damnation and greed. rex lapis had saved him, and he had become free. indebted, a contract had been made. to defend the lands of liyue till his last breath, to slice through opposers with polearm in tow till the very moment he no longer can.

in the present, yakshas and adepti can now be spotted among the common folk. liyue has changed over the many, many years. it is also to note that adepti are no longer tied to have to defend those unlike them, in the new age where humans are able to rule with no lord.

so now here he is, in a glorious space full of colorful and vibrant flowers. by then, he had started to think back to when he had last taken a moment to just breathe. the geo crystalflies flap their wings and illuminate the slowly darkening sky, their beautiful golden glow shining and showing the gleam of his similar colored eyes.

in a field of flowers, the lone yaksha finds rest. well deserved for a warrior who had fought thousands of battles.

for years he was bound by contract and a feeling of obligation to repay his lord. he had served non-stop, fighting and destroying evil almost every minute and dispersing it the next. how could one not get tired of doing the same thing every single day?

in this field he is not alone, a loving companion sitting with him to keep him company. he gets up on his feet and so do they- the companion, slowly moving around together with the gentle glow of golden crystalflies lighting up the space where they move in sync.

the night sky hangs high, the stars glimmer and shine up above. hearing the songs of the wind, they dance together and sing. with every step the binds that have shackled his poor heart slowly melt away, leaving nothing but molten iron in their wake

xiao- once a weak little soul, longing for nothing but freedom from pain and a life of peace. this field of flowers made just for him and the dance given to him by the one who cares for him most provides a sense of internal comfort that he knows he can only dream.

star notes ☆ —;

omg first actual genshin writing after i've announced writing for it and it's not even a request i'm gonna cry i know it's not that much of a reader insert but i hope it's still satisfactory!! stay safe and healthy everyone :)!

— cerise

[elmundodeflor]

CRACKS ON PORCELAIN - a gift for @someonestolemyshoes

READ THE FULL FIC ON AO3

The third flash of realization comes unexpected, one late-night where he's bathing them. He had to drag them there, — out into the common showers. They would have stayed in their room for another day, signing off papers and permissions, hadn’t he done so.

“Oi”, he’d asked, soon as he’d opened the door. “How long has it been?”

Hanji’d barely looked up at him.

“My brain’s fried, Levi.”, they’d sighed, as they ran their fingers through their hair. Good thing he didn’t even need to be specific. “I can barely remember my own name by now.”

He’d nodded.

“More of a reason to get moving, then.”

Now, mercurial blue hours twinkle in the haze between dusk and morning. Hanji’s bare before him, and the pale moonshine traces contours on their body. They’re concave and convex, frail and strong. All too swift, all at once. Levi can’t help but find shapes upon their back, — like he’s connecting dots between muscle and scar. A planet, a cloud. He pretends that he’s a painter. That each stroke of light and shadow brings his work to life.

He lathers up soap between his hands. Water ripples at each one of his movements, as he washes down their neck, their nape, their shoulders. He’s careful handling them, — he always has been. There’s a part of him that feels that Hanji’s made of glass, — that a single blow could shatter them to pieces. They don’t need the extra pressure— the world puts enough on them already. It’s why he holds them with sheer delicacy— as if they’re Erwin’s vase, and he’s trying to bring their broken back to earth. Not everyone gets to see the softer sides of him, but Hanji; — Hanji’s different. They understand him— simple and complex as that. Everyone else is intimidated by his presence, and yet they tease him for being clean-cut. Will say titans don’t shit just to play around with him.

His fingers trickle down their spine, their waist; shy, meticulous. As if all his endings have turned to sea-foam. They have a secret pact. A tacit agreement that goes unexplored, untouched in moments like these, where they’re too hush and helpless. They don’t ask him why he does all of this for them, and he never speaks the two words that would give them enough of an answer.

“You stank, you know.”, he says, instead. His voice’s sweet, but then he stops himself.

He can feel bone under his palms. Sharp, and fierce and rigid. He doesn’t recall it being there before, the last time he’d bathed them. Sure, Hanji had always been skinny; tall, and with a languid frame. Still, it was never like this. It was never this bad. He would know. He’d engraved each scrap of them into his heart before.

When was the last time he’d even seen them eat?

He clears his throat, and swallows hard, and lets out a sigh. He can count each vertebra that pokes from under the skin. It seems that, beneath the shadows, they’re different phases of the moon: one crescent, one full. There’s little muscle in sight; only the thinness of flesh. The tough realization that this is all it’s come down to.

“Hanji…”

They tell him nothing back. They don’t wish to talk about it, and he knows better than to push them further. All of a sudden, it’s like they’re a kid who’s been caught red-handed. A famous criminal found at the theft scene.

It does make Levi’s soul shrink, — to watch them like this, all too small; knees pulled to their chest. They used to shine with every color in the rainbow; a whisp of bright and vibrant. Now, they’re only rain. Nothing but the cracks on a porcelain vase; no liquid gold to glue them back together.

He gets up from the chair he’s in, goes fetch for a warm, fluffy towel. Hanji stands up to their full height, and covers up their breasts with their hands, but he can see it, still. Their weak build, the protuberances on their hips and ribs. For a moment, it almost looks like they’ll bend and fall. Like water will weigh them down, and they’re not sturdy enough to carry themselves to make it.

He’s worried sick about them. Oh, God forbid, he’s so, so worried. He doesn’t understand, — how could he be this selfish; much too focused on his own pain to even notice Hanji’s.

“I’m cold.”, they whisper, barely audible.

And when he wraps them up in cloth, at last, beaming with all the love that he’s capable of, he can only promise himself one thing:

He won’t let them disappear. He can’t. He’ll never.

He won’t let Hanji Zoe become cracks on porcelain.