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no1-horror-hero · 3 years

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Is everyone ready for the match between Evan and Kiyoko? I sure as hell am not!

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Kiyoko wasn’t sure if it was her blood or the crowd roaring in her ears as she raised a hand to shield her eyes and took a minute to adjust to all of the lights shining down on the stage from above. She could have sworn, as she flexed slick palms and climbed the stairs leading up to her destination, - that her heart was beating in time with each footstep, almost like some sort of ominous omen…

Or maybe she was just being dramatic because she was super nervous and not looking forward to the remarks that could follow either combatant away from this broadcasted match. Monster. Beast. Demon. Monstrosity.

It was one thing to spar in class, after all…She thought, putting her hand to her brow as she scanned the crowd, pivoting in a half-circle...and another thing entirely to perform for a crowd, when asked. She let her arm fall back to her side, before pulling it over her front with her other to perform a last-minute stretch, trying to soothe her nerves.

She didn’t want those kind of things to follow either of them, anymore.

She was able to dispel the feeling in her gut that didn’t agree with the sentiment of the whole spectacle, on some level, of watching children beat the crap out of each other, when she remembered why it was the way it was; why this was necessary.

Funding for the school. A show of strength. A show to inspire people. A peek at future generations of hope for Japan.

Yes, Kiyoko thought, pulling her gaze away from the surrounding crowd as another head of hair appeared over the edge of the stage as her friend arrived. I can do that.

“Oi, Evan!” She called to him, unable to fight off the grin on her face for even a second once she saw him, despite all the cameras that were undoubtedly on the two of them - (she’d have plenty of time to be self-conscious later, in the privacy of her own room.)

“Crazy turnout huh?”

Evan only smiles and laughs loudly, not trusting his words to carry the weight he wants them to carry.

He's excited, not just for the match, but for Kiyoko. She was one of his best friends! Win or lose, he'd cheer for her regardless.

Kiyoko cupped her hands around her mouth so that he could hear her over the crowd. “Let’s make it a good match, and then we can have cake in the dorms after! I was baking last night!”

"If only I get the biggest slice!" Evan answered, smile even wider than before.

Cementoss raised an arm, the universal signal they were waiting for. The world around the two combatants seemed to fall away as the crowd held their breath. Cementoss’ arm fell. “Begin!”

Metal snapped into place, becoming her limbs at Cementoss’ call to action mid-stride as she pushed off the ground to charge Evan.

Evan could only laugh as his bones snapped out of place and his muscles started expanding and breaking out of his skin. As soon as his limbs were ready, he launched a barrage of attacks ー muscles with dull bone to serve as blunt strikes, whipping around and eager for a target… He grew more eyes and mouths as an accident. That was going to bite him in the ass and give him a headache later, but oh well.

Kiyoko kept her hands loose, and close enough to her face where she could confidently guard her head and lower body as she fell back into the rhythm of old training. She was diligent to never catch any of Evan’s blows head-on, using the steel of her arms to deflect them to either side, quickly batting away blows when she saw the opportunity, shutting them down before they had the chance to reach her and take more effort to deflect.

Kiyoko never took her eyes off of Evan, aiming for the joints he made and the bases of the appendages as she could reach them, doing what she could to push her offensive while maintaining her defense, trying to get to the center of the appendages - Evan himself, even as he seemed to sense the change of pace.

Kiyoko was dodging on the balls of her feet, twisting out of the way of attacks with a balanced stance that enabled her quick response in kind, throwing out steel punches and hearing the crunch of bone whenever an attack would sneak through Evan’s assault by hammering back at the appendages that were trying to hit her as she dodged and they went by.

Evan hardly winced. At this point, he couldn't differentiate the pain caused by Kiyoko, and the pain caused by his Quirk. He used it to his advantage, continuing his barrage, the only lull being when Kiyoko threw him off-balance.

Still, a battle of attrition wasn’t what either of them wanted.

Both fighters reached the same conclusion in that moment ー they weren’t making any headway. They were both familiar with each other’s Quirks, the same sort of moves they’d fall back on in practice wouldn’t aid them in this fight. They’d have to be creative, and go beyond, to win.

Think, Kiyoko. The criteria for a win - the boundary lines, she thought, her gaze briefly noticing the line a distance beyond Evan, and a plan quickly formed in her head as she stepped to initiate it, faking a mistake and switching to the backfoot. A retreat. And then, she hoped, a bait-and switch. An uppercut to the jaw, her quirk pushing at the top of his mass, anything to topple him over that line after getting him to extend himself to follow after her.

It almost worked, too.

Almost.

Kiyoko made it look as if one of the blows she’d deflected off of one of her arms had hit her harder than anticipated, her arm curling in protectively toward her torso as she started to back-pedal, and then turn to run fully as she saw Evan begin to give chase with two snaking tendrils of flesh and bone weaving in pursuit after her heels.

Good! Now! She pivoted on a dime and planted her feet as her hands shifted and grew into two large, flat shields to catch the oncoming assault, and hit it back! The bottoms of her feet grew steel spikes that dug into the concrete like cleats as she punched back with both shields at the bases of the tendrils that had been pursuing her - starting a punishing assault meant to topple Evan backwards with the force of the shields slamming the tendrils out of the way, and then shifting the shields into two large fists and slamming them into his torso with dual uppercuts to uproot him from the arena floor.

But his reflexes were proving too quick once again - and her hits were proving ineffective at doing more than batting his defenses out of the way temporarily, without stunning them. With the very same appendages she’d tricked him into elongating, he moved them with the momentum he was being carried through the air with, whipping them up and around to dig in the ground just inside the boundary line and catch him like a baseball in a mitt. She could almost hear the imaginary umpire saying Safe!

It seems he didn’t like how close he’d gotten to losing, because Evan wasted no time in twisting several tendrils underneath him, and using them to push off the ground and jump - seemingly, - at Kiyoko, sailing toward the center of the arena proper. His tendrils were already moving in several ways at once like parts of a team - catching him as he landed, two pairs twisting together into two meaty trunks that ended in white, sharp bone shard constructs, slamming them into the concrete beneath him to break it up, unraveling the sides of his legs to sink deep into the earth he’d uncovered.

No-! Don't let him-!

Her eyes widened as she followed what he was up to, her feet already clanking against the concrete beneath her as she sprinted at him, her hands shifting to grow even larger and launch her at him.

Her shadow flitted over the concrete as wind whipped through her hair. She sailed through the air breathlessly and brought her arms back behind her head in a hammer blow that she whipped forward down onto Evan with a WHAPH!

That didn’t sound right. It didn’t feel right either, there was no give under her hands - she shifted her hair out of her eyes as she landed and her arms shrank, once more falling into a guarded stance.

She was faced with a virtually impenetrable wall of flesh (and bone. She could see bits of white, sharp and dull, sticking out of the mass, and even a few bits of teeth.)

Shit. He’d cocooned himself a defense, and it wasn’t worth the risk or energy to try to circumvent it blindly. She needed to retreat for real this time, and try to anticipate what he’d try next. She needed to come up with a better plan, that would waste less of her energy. The bursts of combat so far hadn’t led to much good for either side.

Kiyoko back-pedaled swiftly to a safe distance, and forced the muscles in her arms and legs to relax a little as she entered a recognizable Tai-Chi form once more, settling in the pose called Dao Juan Hong, with her left arm and a relaxed palm facing out to the front, parallel to her left leg, and her right arm pulled back to her side with the palm relaxed and facing the sky. Her right leg was bent slightly, her foot keeping her balanced but ready to move.

She couldn’t help flinching as the crowd around them roared suddenly, apparently seizing the brief lull in the fight as an opportunity to make their opinions known. She’d totally forgotten they were even there - and it should stay that way, she shook her head, refocusing on her opponent even as the Pro Hero Midnight’s, - the commentator for the match, - voice rang out throughout the stadium.

“What an explosive start to the match folks! Truly incredible demonstrations of power from both sides - and they’re so evenly matched too!” Midnight paused to let the crowd cheer in response, building the excitement even higher in the stadium, not letting this lull affect it. “Eeeeee!~” Midnight’s excited squeal interrupted her train of thought. “The flaming fires of youth are burning in this stadium tonight, there’s no doubt! But some of you might be wondering, with the shapeshifting capabilities of our two diligent students, why aren’t they doing more? Why isn't the charming Satoru-kun using sharper bones? And sweet Hagane-chan not forming any blades of any kind? The answer is simple, dears! PG-14! No one wants to see that kind of thing in a friendly competition!! We do have the safety of our students to consider, after all!” Somehow, you could hear the wink in her voice.

“Ah- but I think I see Satoru-kun beginning to shift again. The excitement continues! Let’s hear it for our discerning competitors, everyone! Ganbatte you two!!” Her sentence was punctuated by echoing sentiment from the crowd as the action did, indeed, seem to be resuming.

Kiyoko was keeping a wary eye on the cocoon from a distance, and keeping an eye on the ground of the arena itself. If an attack were to come from the cocoon or from beneath the arena, she’d be able to see it coming. And if an attack were to somehow come from above, it would cast a shadow that she’d be able to catch on the ground, and move accordingly.

She needed to seize this opportunity to catch her breath, and figure out how she was going to win this fight before she spent too much energy on the first fight and either failed to win at all, or sabotaged her hypothetical future matches.

Despite everything ー the ever increasing bouts of pain, the draining of his energy ー Evan was happy. He was laughing, and laughed a bit louder knowing no one could really hear him (or call him insane, but he was fine with that too).

He was close to losing, but he didn't care (okay, maybe he kinda did). He was so happy! And Kiyoko was so awesome!!

He stifled his excited giggles and wiped the sweat off his chin, panting. For as happy as he was, winner or loser, he still wanted to do his best.

His family was watching, he's pretty sure. He wants to do them proud.

He needs a plan.

...He decides to try and knock Kiyoko out, a well-aimed hit to the head maybe, or just throw her out of the arena. It's a fairly simple plan, but Evan was a simple guy (kind of).

At the same time, Kiyoko had reached a very similar epiphany. With her personal comfort levels and the combat’s rules itself preventing her from utilizing sharper weaponry, and with her blows proving less than ideal, she was running out of options.

The window to victory would continue to shrink the longer the battle wore on - because Kiyoko, despite all her training, cannot fight forever. She wasn’t so sure about Evan - but she wasn’t keen on finding out the hard way. She needed to think! Getting him to cross the boundary hadn’t worked, she knew trying to restrain him would use too much energy that she would need for later if she won, so that left her with…

A knockout. Of course! That was it! Kiyoko had to knock him out, it didn’t involve blades, and it was what bludgeoning weapons were practically made for! Her brief elation that she’d scored an idea faltered as soon as she turned to the next task of figuring out how the heck she was going to be able to do that.

She was searching her memories of their previous sparring in classes and during practices, trying to pick out anything about Evan and his fighting style that she could exploit to win.

His front guard is pretty excellent - as he'd already proven in this fight alone, and his sides would be easy for him to protect, it would take less than twisting his torso thanks to all of his quirk's versatility.

That left one avenue...A surprise. But where could she sneak one in? From the front would be too difficult - she has to fend him off of herself too after all, her attempt would have to work on multiple levels as offense and defense, as all the rest of their attacks had accounted for so far. No one wants to give their opponent the chance they've been looking for.

But Evan had, she realized. Remembering how she'd hooked a leg around the back of his once during a spar, in that moment instead of completing the throw at the front where he was already moving to guard, she had leaned further forward, reaching around to the back of his collar and yanking him off balance as she swept his leg out from under him, sending him to the mat.

His back. His frontal assault was strong, definitely, but he often got so lost in the logistics of protecting his front and attacking, that he forgets to think about full positioning awareness.

Kiyoko had her goal, her target, and an idea.

It was time for a gambit.

Her mind snapped back to the present as she detected movement within the walls of the cocoon itself, and she mentally braced herself.

The arena exploded into action.

The cocoon exploded, and the mass of tendrils all went forward at once. Evan flinched this time, the continuous stacking of the pain taking it's toll, but the end was close now. All that was left was for either of them to reach it.

Evan aimed to overwhelm, and overwhelm he tried to do.

Using the already formed tendrils, he tried to lash out at Kiyoko, aiming to distract her enough to fling her out of the ring, or hit her in the head and knock her out (if he did succeed at the latter, he'd apologise properly when all was said and done).

A kiai erupted from her as she thrust her arms forward in time with her legs boosting her as they turned into growing, solid steel stilts as she ran at him. Her hands finished shifting into two large curved, reflective plates of metal that she locked together in front of him, obscuring her form behind her shifted hands as she angled the sunlight directly into his vision.

Her legs never stopped growing until she kicked up off the ground not a half second after she’d locked her hands into place - she kept her hands down as she performed a standing front flip over Evan, her legs shifting, still long but shrinking,- to end in feet once more as she completed the flip and threw her heel at the back of Evan’s skull with a THWACK! She landed and spun as she shrank her hands and grew a second pair in case she needed to protect herself in the brief second it took her hands to return to a normal size, positioned to be protecting her upper torso.

But she hadn’t needed to - Cementoss was already by Evan’s side, who was stilled, standing a couple steps forward from where he’d been - until his knees buckled and he fell onto his side with a thwump, kicking up a cloud of cobble dust.

Kiyoko quickly entered the cloud but stopped as Cementoss rose from where he’d been crouching, inspecting Evan’s status. “Evan Satoru has been rendered unconscious. Kiyoko Hagane will progress to round two of the tournament!” His voice rumbled like rocks scraping against concrete as it left his throat, to the cheers of an ecstatic crowd.

She let out a sharp breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding - she’d forgotten to breathe when she saw Cementoss rise. She remembered to enter the ending form and place a fist to her vertical palm in a show of respect to Evan, adding a bow to it, before extending a regular bow to the audience on all four sides. Her dad would have wanted her to remember her manners.

Now that manners were quickly out of the way, though, she hurried over to Evan as he started moving again, offering a hand up as a sympathetic wince passed over her features. “You alright, Evan?”

"Better than ever!" Evan chirped, happily taking her hand and hauling himself up.

"Congrats!"

"..Also, you still owe me that cake"

The End of the Match!

#aaaAHHHHHHHHH #IT'S FINALLY DONE!!!#thank you cosmicgoof you were such a big help/good friend #sjaksmdnksmdls #txt.post #long post #bnha oc #bnha oc comeback #evan satoru #kiyoko hagane #event: sports festival tournament #interaction.tag

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darkhymns-fic · 3 years

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How I Became the Sea

On a routine fishing trip, Lloyd meets a selkie girl named Colette - and from then on, she was like a secret he wanted to keep all to himself.

Fandom: Tales of Symphonia Characters/Pairing: Lloyd Irving/Colette Brunel, Dirk Rating: T Mirror Link: AO3 Notes: Written for Day 5: AU / Crossover! I wanted to pair a selkie story to match with this art by @frayed-symphony and also because I have been thinking too much about a selkie au with them.

Lloyd had once dreamed about being adrift at sea.

His body floated just above the waves, the sky a dark and angry red, rain pelting his face and hair. Every time he opened his mouth, sea water rushed through, trying to clog his throat, trying to drown him. He tasted salt on his tongue, felt the tinge of the lightning as it crashed across the clouds. He was lost, and there was nothing he could do.

But in the dream, he felt arms grab hold of him. They kept him in the water still, but he no longer sank. The arms were strong, secured him in their grip. He would be okay, if he just let the waves take him along and ride the storm out.

Dirk had told him that such a dream was an omen.

“Be careful you don’t sink now,” Dirk had warned his son before he set sail, out in the boat he had long promised to make by himself. “Many sailors would postpone their trip after having a vision such as yours.”

“Good thing I’m not like most sailors!” Lloyd had argued, waving away such concerns. “It was only a dream anyway.”

He was not old enough to have weathered the superstitions, to look up at the roiling sky at dawn and make sense of the portents in the water beneath. But maybe, that was just all part of his luck.

The sky had been clear when he set out. He checked the rigging on his small boat, packed away his fishing gear, and then set off. The boat wobbled when he stepped inside, but his hands held onto the edges as he easily seated himself.

He had done this numerous times, the waves lapping at his vessel, the sea so dark if he leaned over to look. Even if he fell overboard, he would simply swim. There was no danger here at all.

He was not usually the only sailor either. Off in the distance, a much larger sea vessel lumbered along the waves, puffing smoke out of its center, acrid and harsh to the lungs if he were to get any closer. Back on shore where the ports were, locals fixed the ropes, took to fishing there instead of bobbing all the while out on the water. No fishermen were too close too his spot, no one except the raucous seagulls, which occasionally tried to nip at his bait box when he opened it.

As he settled his boat on the water, he gathered the net to hang from the side, then went to retrieve his rods before he noticed something odd. He sighed upon realizing. “Did I really forget to put the fishing line on this morning?” He had slept in for a bit…

With that, he went and searched through his packs, hearing the splash of water to his right. The fish must have been lively today, and he was already missing it!

He kept searching through the tight corners of his little boat, but couldn’t find the fishing line anywhere! “I thought I…put it here…” Another search, but he only came upon the same boots, the same pack full of bait. “Where is it…?” Ugh, did I really leave it at home?

A soft voice floated to him, so light that a strong gust of wind could have blown it away. “Is it this?”

He turned. A hand was outstretched, holding the plastic cord gently in its palm, the line wrapped around it as clear as silk.

“Oh, thank you! I was looking for that.” He took the fishing line gratefully. Then stopped. Then thought a moment.

He was out in the middle of the ocean. So, another hand… was kind of weird, wasn’t it?

When he moved to look over the side, he didn’t do it quickly or with loud movements. A hand carefully placed itself over the rim, fingers pressed against the damp wood, the thin lines of a fishing net he had also brought along with him, ready to be cast out into the water.

Sunlight fell over waves, so bright that it blinded him. Salt on his tongue, eyes still peering through the light, he found her there – and felt familiarity.

It’s said that beauty cannot be trusted when it’s from the sea. A wondrous pattern can lure any curious sailor to fall overboard, or a song so piercing the heart can smash a ship to pieces against rocks hidden beneath. But the girl that peeked her face from the waves only blinked, her golden hair unfurling all around her, like the serrated drapes of a strange curtain.

Lloyd leaned forward, just a bit, as his tiny rowboat wobbled, the splashing water taking over sound.

He saw the shape of a fish tail far beneath her in the swirling dark, saw the trails of scales that dotted her shoulders, and the curved fins that poked out from the sides of her head.

There was a name for this, along with a story, and a lesson hidden away… if he could just remember it.

Silence, except for the creaking of the rowboat, moving with the shifting waves, stretched between them. He knew the girl could speak, but she didn’t do it now. She only placed her hands on the side of the boat, looking up at him with a curiosity Lloyd couldn’t help but share. The way she touched the boat looked as if she were about to knock, asking to be let in.

“Hi…” Lloyd finally spoke, still in awe of her. He started at the hair that looked as thin as twine, the sheen of the scales of her tail refracting the sunlight, even when submerged in the deep. Water bobbed up to her chin, and it seemed she was sinking lower and lower, away from him.

“Wait! Um…” Lloyd nearly reached out, stopped when he thought he saw her flinch. “What’s your name?”

The girl stared – the selkie – and the word only floated to his mind through the gruff voice of his father. Old stories told in the quiet evenings, through the crackling of the fireplace that would make him feel so warm that he’d fall asleep, curled up in great arms.

Her hands were near his own, hovering near scratches and dents that were on its side, from years of salt peeling away the paint, from scuffing too close to rocks or piers when Lloyd had first started sailing.

“I’m Lloyd,” he told her, just loud enough for her to hear through the lapping water.

A blink, eyes that matched the shade of the sea when the sun hit it at certain angles in the early morning, and then she spoke.

But she spoke while her mouth was half-submerged in water. “Bluppbb,” was all she said.

“..Huh?” Lloyd started, then smirked, small laughter bubbling from his lips.

The girl only seemed to realize just then what she had done. “Oh!” She rose further up, nearly knocking heads with Lloyd from the motion. “I’m sorry!”

“T-That’s okay!” Lloyd said, and he couldn’t seem to push away the grin on his face. “I just couldn’t catch that.”

The selkie was now half-over the rim of his boat, water trickling from her hair. She was mostly bare except for the scales around herself, like speckled turquoise that was patterned against the skin, falling like rain into the sea below.

But he noticed something else about her – she was smiling too.

“Sorry,” she apologized once more, her tail fin splashing in the water. “My name is Colette.”

It is in those old folktales that his father would tell about the sailors who found selkies, how compelled they were to keep them to themselves.

Lloyd wondered if that was what he was doing, sailing out to the ocean each day to fish, to the exact spot where Colette waited for him.

“Here, I got you something,” he told her one day. It had been routine to always give each other something nearly whenever they met. Once she had given him a polished pearl, its surface so white and luminous, and another time, she had given him a bunch of seaweed she said was good for having with food! With Colette, it was always a surprise.

“Is it another figurine?” she asked him, and he remembered her wide-eyed fascination as he gave her an old carving of a dolphin he had fashioned out of oak. But both the salt and pressure of the water had been too much for it, and she confessed how it had fallen apart in her hands when she swam back down below.

“Hopefully it’s better than that,” he said, and handed her a necklace, its chain colored red, the gem in the middle winking from the sun. “It’s waterproof, so you should be able to take it without it rusting!” And he had heard of jewelry weathering the depths of the ocean, so hopefully this could work as well?

In comparison to the jewel-like scales on her, maybe the necklace looked drab and plain. But still she took it with excitement, fingers already sliding across the chain. “Is this a human invention?”

“Er, I guess so,” Lloyd said with a shrug. “I just made it. You said you liked shiny things, so I tried to make it extra shiny too!”

And maybe that was true of all selkies? Lloyd wasn’t sure, but he was hesitant to ask his dad, or anyone about it. All that mattered was Colette’s happy grin, and how she looked at the gem in the middle that caught her reflection. She even flicked out her tongue to lick at it!

“It tastes funny!” she said, laughing as she did so. “I like it!”

“Well, it’s not meant for eating!” Lloyd corrected. “You just wear it around your neck.”

“Oh.” Colette looked at it again, bobbing up and down the water along with the rowboat. She managed to work the clasps of the chain open, and just when he thought she would put it on, she held the ends of it back to him. “Can you show me how?”

“You already got it halfway,” he said, but took the chains, her hands brushing against his, damp from the sea, yet still so warm.

He knew that people typically turned around to let someone else latch a necklace on them, but Colette wasn’t like most people, so she stayed facing him, watching as he leaned forward to put her new gift on.

He was close enough to catch each individual scale that lined her head fins, see the sharp curve of her teeth as she giggled at the sensation of his fingers over her neck. “It tickles!”

She was the most interesting person to him. “Almost got it,” he finally remembered to say. “And…there!”

Moving back and seeing her in full, he wished he had crafted something better. The gem he had used look dull compared to her, the shape of the pendant too plain against her existence. Yet even so, Colette looked happy.

“Thank you! I still have to give you your gift.” She then reached her hands underneath the water, tongue sticking out of her mouth as she searched… and then leaned back up, a multitude of little mussels cupped in her palms. “Some food for you!”

Of course, Lloyd happily accepted, as he still would be if she just gave him an old tire that had run down from the river and out into the sea. (Which did happen… He figured he could find some use for it).

It would be another trip where he barely caught much, of anything at all, though he could use the mussels Colette had given him as a substitute. Even so, he’d have to come up with a reason to his dad why his fishing trips had been so unsuccessful lately.

He just wanted to keep Colette to himself.

Two months after Lloyd had started seeing Colette, Dirk had once stopped him at the door, the hour so very early.

“The fish don’t bite so much during this season,” his father had told him, working on mending their wooden coffee table – one of the legs had snapped after Noishe had jumped on it. “Sure you should be going out at this time?”

The lie was ready at Lloyd’s tongue, and maybe on other days, he’d feel bad about it. Instead he grinned, winding the net around his fist. “Fall down seven times, get back up eight. I shouldn’t give up yet, right?”

“Hm,” Dirk muttered, but the lie wasn’t called out. And with that, Lloyd hurried out the door. He didn’t take note of the red skies.

He made the same preparations as always, tying up the rigging and securing the oars, bringing along his boxes of bait and fishing lines, and the net that he hooked to the end of his boat. Then he rowed out to sea, past other sailors that were in the distance, moving further and further away until he reached a sort of privacy out in the open water – to where Colette always waited for him.

Except she wasn’t there.

Sometimes she’d be late, apologizing and explaining how she had tripped over a shellfish on the way. Lloyd would ask how someone could trip while they were swimming… and then they’d forget what they were even talking about in the first place, her arms leaning against the boat, playing with his fishing lines as her fingers got tangled in it in intricate patterns, and him watching it all with a smile, once again barely catching any fish at all.

But he waited, and waited, and continued to wait. It was soon past noon. Colette never showed up.

The boat creaked underneath his weight. The net felt rough against his fingers as he still held it on the rim of the boat, its ends barely reaching the waters. Gazing out over the strangely calm waters today, he pulled back the net, moved the oars out of their handles, and headed somewhere new.

Maybe it was curiosity that made him go down a different direction to shore. He passed by other boats, those much bigger and with greater nets at their portside, at the sailors who gave him a quick glance before returning to their work. There was something pulling at him then, something in the skies, only now noting their color.

His father had warned him of omens, but never said that the omen would be for him.

It was like water, clogging his throat.

Colette had not been far.

It had been mid-afternoon when he set out, the sun still bright despite its lurid color. Now it was early evening, the waves crashing more frequently against his boat, pulling at his oars. The wind bit at his bare arms, trying to throw salt in his eyes. He felt coated in grime, felt as if he had been rolled into the ocean, left to marinate until the salt soaked him dry.

It was the shine of her hair that drew her to him.

He found her tangled in fishing nets on the shore, the sky still so red, even in the dark. Red-tinged clouds at night should not have made him so worried. But they did, making him hastily pull his boat to shore, unmindful of any rocks or gravel that could have torn the underside. He leapt from the side, rushing to her, his feet sinking in the sand with each step.

She didn’t have her scales anymore.

“Colette?” he called out. Only silence back, tinged by the red skies. “Colette!”

He caught a sharp glint in his sight; the necklace she still wore, the pendant laying squarely on her chest. And there, tangled around her legs, was a blanket of starlight. He stared at it, trying to make sense of its fabric and shape.

She stirred slightly, her mouth half-buried in the sand.

He had to get the net off her first.

As he got closer, Lloyd was reminded of the poor seals that would get tangled up in such nets, fisherman careless in how they cast it out, too low into the waters where such animals fed in. The lines would be so tough and the struggle so unbearable that it would cut through their skin, staining blood right onto the sand.

He could already see the bruises around her arms, her shoulders, and on her newfound legs that he was sure she didn’t use to have… But at some point, she must have passed out, stopping her struggles to sleep everything away. Lloyd took his small whittling knife that he carried out of sheer habit, and then carefully sliced open the net, one thread at a time.

When she was finally in his arms, she felt light. Still, that strange blanket was over her, but it looked so thin. Surely it wasn’t enough to shield her from the cold.

He felt her move, her hands reaching to grab at his shirt in her sleep. “..Nn…”

“It’s okay! I’m taking you home.” And Lloyd did not know that the words he just said were echoes of those from before, of those who wanted to keep what they found to themselves, clutching that same coat of starlight in their hands.

As he walked further inland, leaving his boat on the shore, the sky stayed red, long into the night.

Dirk had already gone to bed, but even if he was awake, Lloyd would make sure to keep quiet. So, with all the remembered stealth from his adolescence, he opened the back door of the house, which led to a storage room where fishing tools, old furniture, and other supplies were kept. Through that room, he snuck into another stairway that led upstairs, one that was closer to his room, where the floorboards didn’t creak as much.

The selkie girl was shivering in his arms, even as they finally went inside, away from the biting cold of the shore. The strange blanket she had was cradled against her stomach, half of it laying over Lloyd’s arm. It felt soft to the touch, yet still so thin. What was it…?

“Colette,” he called out again, bringing her to his room and stepping around a pot by his door, containing a healthy cast iron plant he had been growing for the past few years. “Can you hear me?”

For a moment, she stirred, seemed to try to say something, before falling quiet again. Through the half-open balcony doors of his room, he saw the red tinge of the dark sky.

He had to get her warmed up, so he tucked Colette into his bed, careful to not irritate her scratched-up wounds on her arms. Even with his sheets, she still shook. So Lloyd acted on instinct and pulled out one of his spare jackets that hung on the bed, draped it around her shoulders like a second set of blankets.

The red of his jacket was brighter, like the red of the clouds that passed by his window. The light from outside shone on that strange fabric Colette had been carrying, dark like a piece of shadow that had been cut, still housing stars within.

He was curious, and as Colette slept more peacefully, Lloyd reached to grasp the star-studded fabric from her hand, which snuck out from the blanket. It really was so soft to the touch, and it had a texture to it that Lloyd couldn’t really place.

He felt like he should know what this was… But it wasn’t coming to him at all.

“It must be a blanket,” he thought aloud, fingers going over it, reflexively folding it up into a neat square to easily carry. Maybe he could just store it somewhere until Colette woke up? Yeah, that would work! And just as he stood up, carrying the fabric in both hands now, nearly almost hidden away in his grip, he heard a creak from his bed, a soft sigh and a familiar gasp of his name.

“Lloyd..?” There was something about hearing her call to him that made him want to smile, already turning to her ecstatically.

“Colette, you’re up!” He grinned, seeing the red shade of the sky paint against her hair as she slowly sat up. “Do you feel okay?”

She was staring at what he held, and then shrunk away against the headboard of his bed. “So…you’ve taken it…”

And it was only then that he realized, the knowledge of it slowly dawning like the slow crack of a weathered bark of a tree, as the tree would fall and fall almost too slowly, until it snapped halfway from its stump, its end crashing harshly against the ground.

Her coat felt so soft in his hands, his thumb and forefinger rubbing against it gently.

Colette smiled at him, but it was not with the abandoned glee that he was used to seeing whenever he rowed out to see her, the kind that showcased sharp teeth, and highlighted the bright scales of her fins. Only now did he notice that those fins, once on both sides of her head, were no longer there, and her mild attempt at a smile showed no sharpness.

“Someone tried to take my coat earlier today,” she said, the blanket sliding down her legs, legs that she moved with awkwardness, hands placed against her knees. “I was swimming by the rocks on the shore, playing with the seal puppies there… when a man on a boat that made a terrible noise came by. He used something to catch me, and it cut at my skin.” Her fingers gripped each other lightly, marks that he had missed painted on there too. “He knew where my coat was… where it ended… and how to grab it from me…”

Lloyd stood within the middle of the room, watching her silently, seeing the night sky catch the glint of the necklace he had made for her. “Did you think it was me?”

Colette raised her head in guilt, opened her mouth part-way, then closed it again. It was only then she seemed to notice the jacket that was hanging off her shoulders, and she reached out one hand to bring it closer. “No. He didn’t have your smell.” Her voice grew quieter, barely heard over the wind outside. “And his hands felt different.”

Lloyd once again looked to the shroud of starry darkness he held, and now saw it as the same shade as the scales that surrounded her tail, that highlighted the fins and made the light in her eyes sparkle. This held Colette in every seam, in the way it draped over his arms as warm as sunshine. It was so hard to not just hold it against his chest and find some place for it to keep, so that he could always go back to it when needed and –

Colette kept looking at his jacket that he put on her with little thought. Her fingers caught the long strips white tassels that trailed from the collar. “You have mine… but you gave me yours?”

Lloyd quickly walked up to the bed and, with a moment that let him linger too long on the coat against his fingertips, placed it on the bed, practically at Colette’s feet. “It’s yours! You should have it back.” I shouldn’t want it. And even though he would never take it from Colette, knowing what it was and its very importance, he winced at his feelings still, at the strange way he had considered it. Too many stories? Or remembering how Colette had smiled at him when he clasped the necklace on her? “I only wanted to bring you here so that you could rest first.”

She still tugged at his jacket, and so the next words fell out of his mouth without him even thinking on it. “You could keep that too, if you wanted!” Had it been too stupid to say? But he kept going, watching how her hair fell around the red leather fabric. “You seemed cold, so I put it on for you.”

Colette gazed at Lloyd wide-eyed, and with his words, she pulled the jacket around her torso, the loose sleeves falling at her sides to lay folded at the mattress. “I do like yours… Is that really okay?”

“Yeah, it’s fine!” Once again he looked to the dark, folded up shape on the bed, but stopped himself from touching it. “I can make us some hot chocolate. You want any? And you can stay here until you’re ready to go home.”

She looked to say something else, but then paused. Her hands went from the jacket to the selkie coat that was folded with care. “Home… Um, yeah! I don’t know what chocolate is, but I would like some.”

Lloyd smiled, and the strange feeling from before seemed to wash away from his mind – even if some of it lingered still, watching Colette unfurl the selkie coat like a piece of the night sky. “Heh, I think you’d like it.”

And with Colette still wearing his jacket, legs folded underneath her on the bed, she stayed with him for the night. He helped bandage up her scratches and other wounds, moving aside the jacket to get at the ones near her shoulders. He then taught her how to hold the mug carefully in both hands, but told her it was okay to drop it if she needed to, for the mugs were of polished wood and didn’t break as easily. He also showed her the way to put on his jacket, so that she sat across from him, decked out in the red of his coat. It was still unbuttoned down the front, her necklace plain for him to see.

The hour grew too late, that not even Lloyd could keep his eyes open. He yawned wide, enough to crack his jaw just a bit. “Sorry… You should sleep. I think I should too.” He got up from the chair he had placed next to the bed so they could chat easier. “I can make us breakfast in the morning.”

Colette said nothing at first, seemingly content in looking at him. The silence made him see her again, at the way her selkie features seemed to have vanished, looking just like the girls from town… except, no, her eyes were still different, still that deep blue.

“Where will you sleep?” she asked him, pulling him out of a strange daydream.

“I was just going to be downstairs… I won’t be gone.” He’d have to pull out the couch which was rather old and stiff, and wake up early enough to avoid his father’s suspicions, who already woke up early enough as it was.

“But this is where you usually sleep?” she asked him, tilting her head.

Lloyd scratched at his hair, still half-dusted from the sea breeze. “Yeah? But, it’s yours tonight.”

And then she took his hand, held it between her own, fingertips tracing along his knuckles and thumb. With the way she touched him, it was almost entrancing, like a spell.

Later he would wonder, and later he would brush that away. Already had he been drawn to her, when she splashed in the water, smiling sharp teeth.

“I still remember them grabbing me,” she whispered, sinking into his jacket, comforted in it. “I… would like to not be alone.”

Lloyd’s memories were hazy ever since, just remembering the feel of her hands as she drew him close, the brush of her hair just against his neck. He thought he remembered the rhythm of someone’s breath, something warm and comforting – and then the taste of salt on his lips. But it had been sweet, like taffy, and the arms around him like blankets that kept him safe.

At some point he must have fallen asleep, for when he woke up the next morning that was clear and blue, lying on his bed, Colette had left.

She had taken both his coat and her own.

For the next few weeks, he no longer saw Colette, even as he passed by the same fishing spot they would once gather at each day.

But this time, he no longer worried for her, unlike before. Because sometimes she’d still leave him little gifts; once her own fashioned necklace of seaweed and pearls, floating at the top of the water’s surface. Another time, the curious splash of a baby seal that had pawed at a boat’s side, holding a seashell, carved with unfamiliar runes over its surface. And once, when he had been fishing, (and actually getting his catch), he found a lock of her golden hair on his hook, fashioned curiously like a bow, the shape of it enough to make him laugh.

Even though he missed her, he knew that most likely she would never come to meet face-to-face with him again. He had held her coat without her consent, had thought about keeping it stored somewhere out of reach. He was happy to, at the very least, receive her gifts.

“Suddenly you’ve become a much better fisherman,” Dirk commented as he looked over Lloyd’s catch one day, taking a mackerel to fillet and gut for their dinner. “Found a better spot this time?”

“Not really,” Lloyd said, determined to not lie anymore to him, even if his dad would never know about it. “The fish just come easier now.”

Lloyd started dreaming again of floating out to sea, the skies full of stormy red. He’d dream again of arms holding him close, keeping him safe in the water. He knew he was safe now, that he really had nothing to fear. So he’d open his mouth, and still be able to breathe, something sweet on his lips. He’d look towards the oceans depths and feel a hand hold his own tight, guiding him all the way.

If it was still an omen, he didn’t know what it meant. And should an omen make you feel this comforted anyway?

One day, Lloyd didn’t go on another fishing trip, but instead went out into town to restock on supplies; the tilled soil for the gardens, the kibble for Noishe, the paint for the much bigger ship he was going to build someday and sail out into the world. If he was going to be a sailor, he figured he should start acting like one!

So when he came back home, carrying the supplies from his truck to the garage at home, he didn’t expect to see familiar golden hair at his doorstep, talking to his father.

“He just went out to the city streets, but he shouldn’t be long,” Dirk’s voice traveled to him. Then he saw the shorter man turn to him, his thick beard lifting with a hidden smile. “Ah, there he is. Lloyd! You got company!”

Lloyd was unsure if, perhaps, he was still dreaming.

But he didn’t stay back, instead he walked, then ran to the house, only remembering to stop just before crashing right into her. Noishe was nearby as well, head leaning towards the girl’s hands to get a pet from her.

“Colette?” Lloyd said, too dumb to keep such precious words hidden, his father’s eyes still on him. But he was looking at her, standing on two legs again, dressed in a long skirt, though her feet were bare. Her blouse was loose, matching the afternoon sky, along with the satchel slung over her shoulder. And her hair fell down her shoulders and back like a golden cascade.

No scales, no fins, but it was her, the selkie girl right at his doorstep.

“Lloyd! It’s so good to see you,” she said to him, hands clasped before her. “I hope it’s okay to visit?”

Nothing could stop the stupid grin forming on Lloyd’s face, the light laugh that tumbled from his throat. “Yeah! I just didn’t think… I just hadn’t seen you in a while.”

By this time, his father had decided to give them some privacy, heading back inside through the front door and taking Noishe with him. Lloyd wondered if Dirk knew anything about Colette, but everything about her passed for human, down to the clothes and the smile she showed.

Once they were alone, he had to ask her, remembering only one other time she had appeared this way to him. “Is everything okay? Do you still have your-”

At that, Colette held out a hand, stopping him gently from continuing. But her smile never faltered.

“There’s something I wanted to give you… That’s one reason why I came here. If you don’t mind?”

Lloyd shook his head, and then watched as Colette reached into her satchel, unlatching the front to pull something from within. Something dark and studded with jewels like stars, like scales deep underwater, catching the sunlight.

He already felt it against his palms as Colette handed the coat to him.

“I still have yours. I was wondering if you would like mine as well?” And she giggled as she asked, his necklace glinting against her blouse, the chain still never having rusted.

#tales of symphonia #colloyd #lloyd irving #colette brunel #colloydweek2021 #fanfiction #one shot

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elsanna-shenanigans · 3 years

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August Contest Submission #2: Frogs

Words: ca. 1,600 Setting: mAU Lemon: No CW: Brief mention of bullying

June

Anna Sommers adjusts her bangs and checks her teeth in the reflection of her phone’s camera before pressing down on the button to start her video. “Hi y’all, it’s been a minute. I’m all moved in and my new neighbor just told me about an art market a couple of blocks away. I thought I might take y’all there to see what’s up. Let’s go!”

The new Apartment Therapy blogger and wannabe social media influencer walks down the street as she speaks to her phone about her new house and all of the ideas she has for it.

Upon arriving at a park, she is surprised to see that there are at least a hundred tents set up with various wares for sale. Art, homemade soaps, textiles, and food all line designated pathways, and Anna takes no time getting lost in it all.

As she walks, she puts her phone away, wanting to enjoy the moment for a bit. The market is crowded with families with mischievous children, young adults, old folks, and all sorts of people looking for things to buy. It’s Anna’s element, and she grins as she tells herself that moving to this neighborhood was the best idea she’s ever had. She walks down the path and stops to chat with the vendors, looking for her next story but also looking for inspiration for her new home.

When she spots a tent with a table of several brightly colored flowers, she lights up. “Perfect,” she says to herself as she walks over.

Though the plants drew her in, it’s the woman that stops Anna in her tracks. “Gorgeous,” she says a little dazedly.

A dark brow arches and a pink lip quirks. “Excuse me?”

Anna shakes her head and blinks. “Uh, you are- your flowers are gorgeous.”

The woman- with the most beautiful pale blonde hair Anna has ever seen- smiles. “Thank you. Are you familiar with bromeliads?”

“Bro what now?”

Anna’s ignorance illicites a light laugh from the woman. “I suppose not then.”

“No,” Anna says, her cheeks turning a dark shade of pink. “I’m what you’d call a plant murderer. I’ve killed succulents.”

“Succulents are actually not as easy to care for as people think,” the woman cocks her head.

“That doesn’t reassure me,” Anna says with a self-deprecating scoff. “I’m more of an appreciator of plants though. Experience has taught me to love them from afar.”

“I bet you’d be a good plant mom if you had the right tools.”

Wishing to know more about this woman, Anna steps further under the tent. “Thank you for the confidence…” She lingers to see if the woman will take the bait.

“Elsa,” the woman smiles.

Anna grins. Hook, line, and sinker. “Thank you, Elsa. My name’s Anna; I just moved a few blocks down.” She turns and vaguely waves her hand in the direction of her house.

Elsa turns around but continues. “It’s nice to meet you, Anna.” Anna watches as she picks up a plastic pot with a small bromeliad in it. When she turns and holds out the plant to Anna, Anna’s eyes widen.

“I bet you can keep this little guy alive for a month,” Elsa says.

Anna holds her hands up defensively. “Oh, no, I don’t think-” The plant is thrust into her hands.

“I believe in you,” Elsa smiles again.

Anna nearly melts at her sudden infatuation with Elsa. Never before has she fallen so hard so fast; but, Elsa’s words have struck a chord deep inside Anna, and she wants to know Elsa more.

“Anna?” Elsa’s mouth quirks up again.

“Huh?” Anna’s eyes focus on the blonde. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. I was just saying that I’m here every month so you can bring it back and let me inspect it to see how you’re doing.”

“Wait, really? You’re giving me a plant? Shouldn’t I, like, pay you for it?”

Elsa shakes her head, and Anna wishes she could play with her hair. “Consider it a housewarming gift.”

July

Anna practically runs from her house to the market, excited to show Elsa that her bromeliad hasn’t died yet.

“I’m proud of you,” Elsa grins when Anna arrives at her tent, red-faced and out of breath. “I told you you could do it.”

Anna puts the plant down on the table. “It’s all thanks to you. After I downloaded that app you showed me, I made a plan to keep Olaf alive.”

“Olaf?”

“I had to name him, Elsa.”

Elsa’s laughter makes Anna grin, and she thinks that all she ever wants to do is make Elsa laugh.

“So, I forgot to ask you last time: why bromeliads?”

Elsa walks over to her table and grabs a book to hand to Anna. “Have you ever heard of Terry Pratchett?”

Anna takes it as she says, “Didn’t he write Good Omens with the Neil dude? I forgot his last name.”

“Gaiman; and, yes, they did write that together. But Terry Pratchett also wrote tons of books on his own. This is my favorite.”

Anna looks down at the book. “Wings,” she read aloud.

“I learned about bromeliads from it. My grandmother bought it for me when I started to read chapter books. I especially loved that it talked about how frogs live inside bromeliads in the rainforest. I was the weird little girl that loved frogs, lizards, salamanders, and anything slimy.”

“That’s not weird at all. That’s so cool!”

August

Anna has to wait until an older couple finishes purchasing a bromeliad from Elsa before she can ask her question. As soon as they turn to leave and she acknowledges them with a soft “hello,” she steps up to where Elsa is sitting behind the table.

“Elsa, will you help me on my journey to be a plant mom?”

Elsa smiles up at her. “Sure. I know a few places that have hardy plants that even you can’t kill.”

“Ha ha, you’re hilarious,” Anna deadpans as she pulls out her phone. “Do you have plans tomorrow? I could get your number, and we can meet up to go together.”

“I’d love that.”

September

Anna takes a few calming breaths. She’s outside Elsa’s front door and working up the courage to knock. They’ve been spending more time together outside of the art market, but this is the first time Elsa’s invited her to her home.

Just as she psychs herself up, the door opens and Elsa is there grinning. “I was wondering if you’d ever knock.”

“For your information, I was admiring your door knocker,” Anna hedges.

Elsa just laughs. “Well, if you’ve finished, I want to show you my greenhouse.”

Anna nods. Her own plant collection is growing rapidly thanks to Elsa’s encouragement and advice, but she’s ready to see Elsa’s.

They walk through the house, and Anna is excited to see bits of Elsa’s life. It’s as clean and organized as she imagined. The den has a cobalt sofa. There’s a kettle on her stove and pristine tea towels hanging from her oven door in her kitchen. Plants are everywhere- hanging from macraméd planters, in otherwise empty corners, trailing along walls. In short, Elsa’s house is Anna’s dream house.

Elsa opens the back door and leads Anna through her garden. It’s small but brightly colored, with butterflies and bees pollinating all around them.

A pot of dirt and a bag of bulbs outside the greenhouse catches Anna’s attention. “What are you planting?”

Elsa turns to the pot. “Crocuses. They’re one of my favorites. They bloom in the spring and are beautiful shades of purple, white, and yellow.”

“Purple’s my favorite color,” Anna grins.

Elsa returns her smile. “Mine too.”

October

Fall has finally arrived, and with it, Anna’s favorite holiday. The market is decorated for Halloween, and Anna is a little relieved to see a few other adults dressed in costumes. Her own costume isn’t so much a costume as it is an adult onesie, but she doesn’t care. She’s on a mission to ask Elsa out, and she’s opted to do it as a frog.

When she arrives at the table, Elsa’s looking down at her phone.

“Hi,” Anna holds her arms out joyfully. “Are you hoppy to see me?”

Elsa looks up with a smile that’s quickly replaced with a frown.

Anna lowers her arms. “What’s wrong, Elsa?”

“Are you making fun of me?” Elsa’s brows furrow.

“Wait what?”

“I told you I like frogs, and now you’re dressed up like one. Are you making fun of me?”

“What? No, Elsa, I,” Anna pushes back the hoodie on her onesie. “I’m sorry. It was supposed to make you smile.”

Elsa’s blue eyes soften. “Oh, I’m sorry, Anna. I was made fun of for liking frogs as a child, and I get a little defensive of it. I didn’t mean to take it out on you.”

Anna feels terrible and embarrassed and shifts from foot to foot. “No, it’s my fault.”

“It really isn’t. It’s just me and my stuff. Please stay.” Elsa pats a chair next to her’s.

Anna nods but never does get to fulfill her mission.

November

“Okay, Anna, do it. Do the thing,” Anna pumps herself up to finally ask Elsa out. She’s even found purple tulips to give Elsa because they resemble crocuses. She walks up to Elsa’s door with a purpose. Only to falter. “What if she says no? No, Anna, she won’t.”

The door opens as she squares her shoulders.

“Are those for me?” Elsa smiles.

“They are,” Anna hands them to her. “Elsa, will you go out with me?”

Elsa grins. “I’d love to.”

Epilogue

Anna adjusts her bangs and checks her teeth in the reflection of her phone’s camera before pressing down on the button to start her video. “Hi y’all, it’s been a minute. Today I’m finally moving into my girlfriend’s house and I can’t wait to show y’all. She’s perfect, our home is perfect, and our new pet frog is perfect. His name is Sven by the way.”

#elsanna #submission #august 2021 contest #prompt: flowers #cw: mentions of bullying

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collaborationandresearchproposal · 3 years

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Thursday 29th April, Research Report: Lycanthropy and the hays code

Notable points * lycanthropy seems to be synonymous with homosexuality- parallels between Teen Wolf and Buffy The Vampire Slayer's respective coming out scenes. * The Queer-ness of the character Remus Lupin from the Harry Potter books and film series. Many fans head cannon and write slash fics about Remus and Sirius' romance and relationship, reading the characters as queer. The ship, named 'Wolf Star' is quite popular and well known within the fandom. Many fans feel there is enough evidence to build this relationship on; Remus and Sirius' ghosts stood next to each other in the resurrection stone, mirroring Harry's parents, a canonically married couple. They also bought Harry a joint present for his birthday and know the intricacies of each others personalities. Dumbledore also infamously told Sirius to 'lie low at Lupins.' But the problem here, as the article points out, is that Rowling doesn't acknowledge Lupin as queer, despite the homoerotic cues in the writings, and instead gives him a female love interest and admits that Lupins Lycantrhopy is a metaphor for AIDS/HIV. She has further dismissed any alternative readings of the character, disappointing fans' hopes of there being a shred of representation in a queer monster who is actually queer. This sort of behaviour from authors and creators is what turns Queer-coding into the more harmful and frustrating Queer-baiting. A large majority of queer representation comes from connotations and interpretations. the clues are there and queer audiences do pick them up. However this grey area allows allows straight culture to use queerness for pleasure and profit in mass culture without admitting to it. Modern examples of this are CW's Supernatural and BBC's Sherlock. I can't personally speak for Supernatural but having watched Sherlock with the advantage of a queer eye, I can say with confidence that it is a prime example of queer-baiting. there is clear homoerotic subtext between Sherlock and John and even Sherlock and Moriarty. I Personally think it's entirely romantic as I head cannon Sherlock to be Asexual or at least on that spectrum but the point is, it is not just wishful thinking or pushing of a narrative. It's manipulation. Queer-baiting takes advantage of an already vulnerable group of people by preying on their desire for representation in the media.

In modern media werewolf's are often portrayed as having chiselled bodies and looming over each other. The 1985 Teen Wolf received a television reboot and it's fair to say it got reasonably more progressive. It seemed interested in queering the werewolf narrative and in a sly moment of gender-bending the traditional Little Red Riding Hood narrative, protagonist Scott receives the Bite from a male werewolf while wearing a Little Red Hoodie (‘Wolf Moon’). Additionally, the show features LGBTQ characters while Scott’s human best friend Stiles visits a gay bar and makes friends with a group of drag queens in startling contrast to the gay panic of the 1985 film’s version of Stiles. By midway through the show’s second season, the slash pairing that had proved dominant in the fandom was Stiles and wannabe-Alpha Derek Hale. The two characters, who operate in the narrative as belligerent and begrudging allies, rapidly became a slash phenomenon, due, in part, to the chemistry and comic timing between actors Tyler Hoechlin and Dylan O’Brien. The narrative is further subverted when Derek is raped by an adult human woman.

The pair 'Sterek' gained so much traction that it caught the attention of MTV and the cast and crew behind the show. So much so that they released a video of Hoechlin and O'Brien cuddling on a boat, asking fans to vote for Teen Wolf for this years Choice Summer TV Show at the Teen Choice Awards. This was big as it acknowledged fans and slash flics and the pairing itself as a possibility and many queer voices who watched the show felt heard and validated. However this didn't last long. MTV released a video on the official Teen Wolf Facebook, this time featuring O’Brien asking fans to vote for Teen Wolf in a TV Guide Poll. O’Brien joked that if fans did not vote, then the show would kill off its sole remaining gay character and one of the few remaining non-white characters on the show, Danny. The Teen Wolf Facebook released the video with the following caption: ‘Keep #TeenWolf in first place! Heed Dylan and Linden’s advice or we might have to. #KillDanny’ (Teen Wolf). The show’s social media team then attempted to make the #KillDanny tag go viral on Facebook and twitter, but fans, understandably, were not amused, primarily using the tag for outraged tweets to MTV (Baker-Whitelaw).Such blatant disregard for fans’ concerns about queer representation on the show alienated a large number of fans, especially when coupled with Jeff Davis’ more frequently dismissive and condescending comments about the Sterek pairing where he had been enthusiastic and even encouraging of the ship. As seasons wore on without any indication that Sterek would indeed become canon, it became clear that MTV and Jeff Davis had been queer-baiting Sterek fans as a marketing technique and that the unique interplay that fans had enjoyed with Davis, which offered a new kind of truly interactive fandom had, in fact, been something of an illusion. ' serial killer Hannibal Lecter and his love interest Will Graham in Hannibal, and reanimated gay corpses Kieren, Simon, and Rick in In the Flesh. Notably, both series have received an overwhelmingly positive response from fans and critics who have applauded the series for taking their queer monsters beyond mere coding and into explicit text. The warm reception of Hannibal and In the Flesh’s handling of queer representation by fans, and the continuing frustration with Teen Wolf’s queer-baiting and the appropriative nature of Remus Lupin’s narrative in Harry Potter, belie a desire not only for better queer representation, but also for more complex re-articulations of queer monstrosity' the symbolic and narrative trappings of monsters are often used as metaphors for queerness without actually acknowledging the positive behind that queer identity or even confirming the queer identity at all. Another positive example is the miniseries Good Omens. Based on the book of the same name, written by Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman. Pretty much the whole fandom believe That the two leads, Crowley and Aziraphale are in a romantic relationship. They've known each other for centuries and perhaps what was the main fuel to this ships fire was the episode 3 cold open. Even fans who have only read the book seem to support these two as a couple and what's perhaps even more amazing is Gaiman’s response on twitter. "I wrote it as a love story. They acted it as a love story. You saw it as a love story. How much more proof do you need?" and "I wouldn't exclude the ideas that they are ace, or aromantic, or trans. They are an angel and a demon, not as make humans, per the book. Occult/Ethereal beings don't have sexes, something we tried to reflect in the casting. Whatever Crowley and Aziraphale are, it's a love story." It's beautiful because not only does it confirm that they are in love but it also leaves room for interpretations of what kind of relationship they have together.

https://dialogues.rutgers.edu/images/Journals_PDF/2017-18-dialogues-web_e6db3.pdf#page=164

In the year 1922, when cinema was gaining traction and popularity, The Motion Picture Producers and Distributors Association (MPPDA) hired a devout Presbyterian, Will H. Hays as its head. Eight years later, in 1930, the MPPDA ratified the Motion Picture Production Code. Also known as the Hays Code, these guidelines were set up as “a list of rules that studios could follow to avoid the censors’ wrath” one specific line read “sexual perversion or any inference to it is forbidden” This era in censorship set the stage for a culture in which the stereotypical behaviour of homosexuals, or any behaviour deviating from the traditional gender roles, is seen as dangerous, evil, and even fatal. By representing coded homosexual characters as depressed, perverse, and succumbing to punishing ends, it shifted social subconscious beliefs of LGBT individuals in real life to those represented on screen. Media often teaches us how to feel about others and ourselves – e.g., it promotes specific body types and clothing styles. In the same way, by promoting gendered behaviour and banning homosexuality, it spread a message that homosexuality was not fit to be viewed openly. Although themes of homosexuality were banned they were definitely alluded to and that continues today.

#researchproposal

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dragonslayer-5fanfiction · 4 years

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My Burly Love Chapter 6

Alright guys, it’s been a hot minute, but I’m getting it out. I’ll have chapter 7 posted today or tomorrow.

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

We ran further down the hill but could only go so far because it dropped off into oblivion. We all gathered together presumably to try and fight them off, though none of us were hopeful. Gandalf glanced up at the tall pine trees, the light bulb went off.

“Go! Climb up the trees!” Everyone started to climb their way up, with Gandalf’s help. He pushed us about halfway up the tree and then we had to climb the rest.

“They’re coming!” I faintly heard the shout, grabbing a hand to help pull me the rest of the way up. I ended up clinging to the trunk of the tree watching them race towards us. However, it seemed time slowed down as they rammed into the trees. Gandalf lit some pinecones on fire and started to pass them to us. We helped each other light them up, and we threw them towards the wargs. However they had already knocked one of the trees over, and the rest were like dominos. We effectively made a barrier of fire between us and them, stopping their assault in its tracks. I glanced around and watched as Thorin’s face fell as pale as the white warg’s coat.

“Azog. It cannot be.” Thorin uttered in solemn disbelief. I looked around, and looked at the fear and anger on my friend’s faces.

“It’s going!” someone yelled, but I barely registered the uttered words as I watched Thorin stand and take a step forward. Then another one. Then another until he started running.

“Thorin, No!” Fili shouted, watching his uncle. If Thorin heard, he seemed not to care. He surged forward through the flames towards the white warg. He attacked the rider with all his strength. He fought with the anger and hatred that had built up over the years. I watched in horror as Thorin was losing the fight. He was on the ground weaponless, heading for sure death. He reached out and grabbed a pine branch, as the only weapon against Azog the Defiler. I let a scream tear its way out of my mouth, and lunged forward. I had to do something, I couldn’t just let him die. As I lunged, the tree fell over and I plummeted. I was caught by Dwalin. I looked down, and started to panic. When I looked back up at Dwalin, he could see the fear in my eyes.

“Lass, hey, look at me.” I looked into his eyes, “Don’t look down. Lass, keep yer eyes on me.” I nodded, keeping my eyes locked with his. “I won’t let anything happen to ye remember?” I nodded once again. We could hear the clashing of swords on the hill above us, and I feared the worst. I knew that regardless of who we lost, we would have to continue on. If we lost Thorin, it wouldn’t be the same, however a part of me was glad that it wasn’t Dwalin up there. I would go insane with grief if I lost him.

Gandalf was using his staff to keep us from falling. He glanced down at us, then past us. “Let go!”

“What?!”

“Let go! Trust me!” he bellowed. So one by one, we all let go. I let go and stared at Dwalin. If I was going to die, his face was going to be the last one I’d see. I could see the worry in his face as he watched me fall. I finally closed my eyes, not being able to watch as they got further and further away from me. I landed with a thud. After reaching down, and feeling something soft, I opened my eyes. I was on an eagle, I was flying on an eagle! The eagle turned around and we caught Dwalin too. I pulled him into a hug and started sobbing. I was so relieved to be alive, all my emotions caught up to me.

I was looking around to make sure we have everyone, and I couldn’t see Thorin or Bilbo. I said something to Dwalin about not spotting them, and he pointed above us. When I glanced up, I saw Thorin being carried in the talons of the eagle, and assumed that Bilbo was on the back of the eagle. I started to cry again out of relief that everyone was okay. Dwalin held onto me and at some point I was so exhausted I fell asleep. I woke up in his arms as everyone else was landing. The eagle gently placed Thorin down on the mountain. I waited with baited breath to see if he would wake up, and he wouldn’t. Gandalf kneeled over him, and said some sort of incantation. When he backed up,Thorin woke up.

“Thorin!” Fili exclaimed.

“The halfling?” he asked.

“It’s alright. Bilbo is here, he is quite safe.” Gandalf replied.

“You! What were you doing? You nearly got yourself killed! Did I not say that you would be a burden? That you would not survive in the Wild? That you had no place amongst us?” He was pointing at Bilbo stalking closer to him, “I have never been so wrong in all my life. But I'm sorry I doubted you.” He pulled him into a hug.

“No, I would have doubted me too. I'm not a hero or a warrior. Not even a burglar.” He said over Thorin’s shoulder to the rest of us. They pulled apart and Thorin walked forward and was staring into the distance.

“Is that what I think it is?” Bilbo asked in awe, turning to look in the distance.

“Erebor.....the Lonely Mountain.....the last of the great Dwarf kingdom of Middle-earth.” Gandalf replied nodding toward Bilbo.

“Our home.” Thorin breathed out.

“A raven!” Oin exclaimed. We all looked up and saw a bird flying off towards a mountain in the east.

“The birds are returning to the mountain.��

“That, my dear Oin, is a thrush. But we'll take it as a sign.” Gandalf replied.

“A good omen.” Thorin said.

“You're right. I do believe the worst is behind us.” Bilbo replied. We all took a breath of relief and stared off in the distance towards the Lonely Mountain. We finally decided to start on our way again. We carefully maneuvered our way down the mountain we were on, and set up a camp in the forest below. Bombur and I made dinner. Once again we were making stew. I don’t mind stew, it’s easy to make and it makes a lot of servings. Once we finished dinner, Dwalin said he would train me some more.

“Alrigh’ lass are ye ready?” Dwalin asked as he lumbered towards me.

“Are you ready to get your butt beat old man?” I turned to him with a grin on my face.

“Ha! In yer dreams lassie.” I snorted as he led me to a clearing to practice. We were still within earshot of the rest of the company in case something happened. “We’ll start with your defenses. Once we finish up with these we can start sparring with each other.” I nodded and watched as he demonstrated how to do one of the moves. He showed me how to do it a few times, and then he had me try to do it. After a few times of doing it I managed to get the hang of it.

“Haha! Yes! I got it!” I dropped my sword and pumped my fist in the air. Dwalin smiled at me, and then started to show me another move. This continued on for a while, but the last move was tripping me up. I just couldn’t get the hang of it. I was supposed to parry their attack, jab my sword forward, and twist it in a circle while pulling it up to make them lose their grip. However, I either dropped my sword or lost my footing when I jabbed forward. After the umpteenth time of messing up, Dwalin took pity on me.

“Alrigh’ lass let me help ya.” He showed me how to do it again, and this time my sword clattered to the ground. He huffed and came up behind me. He rested his hands on my hips and turned them to the side. Then he brought one hand up and showed me how to hold the sword. I could only focus on his breath fanning over my neck. His hand heavy and warm on my hip. His tense body pressed against my own, tired and stiff body. He was explaining to me how to move properly and I looked over my shoulder at him. I could see every scar, every tattoo, every bristly strand of his beard, and somehow out of all of that I could only focus on lips. It took me a minute to notice he had stopped talking and was looking at me expectantly. I looked at him, and noticed him glance at my lips. We looked at each other, each waiting for the other to make a move, not sure who was going to act first.

I leaned in and he backed away like I had burned him, “We should head back to camp.” he whispered, and I nodded.

Chapter 7

Taglist: @fentah, @reignofglitter, @perseny-blog, @xxdragonagequeenxx,@captainrainbowpanda, @hufflepuff25, @swoopswishsward , @tumblinglringlring, @awkwardsleepyturtle

#dwalin imagine #dwalin x reader #dwalin #the hobbit #my burly love

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arcxus-of-altihex · 4 years

Text

New Beginnings (or, the one where Julian gets blackmailed)

It was a peculiar night. One that was far too quiet.

Even the owls were silent, and not a single drunk villager was loitering in the streets after curfew. The only noises were the rustling of leaves as the wind danced through them, but they sounded eerie and unfamiliar when coupled with the groaning branches of a dying willow tree. A haunting sound, almost like an omen.

It was as if the night was waiting for something to occur, for some sort of mischief or unseen, peculiar happenings under the light of a full moon. Like listening to the calm before some unknown storm, and it set Cassius even more on edge.

He was unfortunately awake, leaning against the wall of the kitchen and nursing a cup of tea. He sighed, willing the memories of his nightmares to dissipate into the void they’d come from. The tea was nice, but for whatever reason it failed to calm his nerves tonight.

Whatever is going to happen, he thought sourly, better happen soon.

Then the sound of a single pair of feet on the cobblestone path outside caught his attention. The sound was very faint,, but growing stronger and more sure as they undoubtedly approached the clinic. Who would be coming to the clinic this late? Cassius wondered, setting his drink aside. An emergency?

He felt dread settle in his heart as it occurred to him that whoever they were, they must be very, very desperate to be coming here at nearly two in the morning.

But the knock on the door he was waiting for never came. Instead, he listened as the person seemed to creep around to the back of the building before circling back to the front, turned the corner, and then stopped at the side window.

A burglar, then? Cassius thought, irritated. He grabbed the sword he kept hidden away, intent on getting this over with as quick as possible.

The wooden frame creaked as someone tested the locked window, followed by the shatter of glass as they broke it. From where he was hidden, Cassius could see reflected moonlight dancing on the far wall from shards on the ground, just past the corner wall. There was a soft thud as a shadow tumbled in, a chair creaking as it was pushed aside, a quietly hissed curse followed by the scrabble of boots on the dusty ground.

His ears twitched, honed in on the sound. Cassius crept closer, listening to the intruder’s nervous heartbeat as they moved around, searching for something.

He wasn’t too worried, he’d hidden everything of value when he’d first moved here. They’d find nothing, unless they knew exactly where to look.

Even still… the way the intruder almost seemed at ease here, it intrigued Cassius.

There was a shuffle of paper, the sound of cloth rustling and shifting, soft footfalls that followed as they strode into the next room, clearly familiar with the layout of this weary, run-down clinic. Someone tall, given their stride, and perhaps a little clumsy since they just knocked over a stack of folders. The muttering was new, though. Most burglars weren’t… this bold.

Almost amused, Cassius realized the intruder must think they’re alone.

Well then, he thought, readying his sword just in case, let’s see who they are.

Two silent, unheard steps later, Cassius saw the other person fully for the first time.

He froze.

Oh.

Unmistakable, bright red hair and a lanky frame illuminated elegantly by moonlight. An elegant face with clever eyes and a sharp nose, and a worryingly pale complexion. The purple shade framing those silver-grey eyes seemed painted on, and Cassius couldn’t tell if it was from makeup or insomnia. They were muttering to themselves, looking through old folders that the doctor who worked here, before Cassius, had left behind.

And given this man’s striking appearance, Cassius had a hunch the intruder and the former doctor — his friend Portia’s missing brother, Julian Devorak — were one and the same.

The coat thrown on the table, and the plague mask that rested atop it, merely confirmed Cassius’ suspicions.

After a moment of staring at the admittedly handsome man, he chose to trust in the stories Portia had told, and decided to make himself known.

He offered a questioning croon, trying not to startle the other.

The intruder startled spectacularly nonetheless, head whipping up and yelping as they noticed Cassius.

He watched as they stepped back, then tripped over a chair, and then nearly toppled the shelf behind them as they tried to right themselves. The stack of papers they’d been looking at went flying, knocked over by a flailing arm as they lost their fight with gravity and fell backwards.

Cassius took in the disheveled figure, pages that were thrown up still fluttering about and fought the urge to snicker at the open, surprised expression on their face. It was, he could admit, a little bit adorable. Just a little. Not that they ever needed to know.

“Ah—” they said, “Ahaha, I was just… sleepwalking. Just a completely accidental midnight stroll, you know?”

Cassius frowned. Was this really the excuse they were going to go with?

“It happens sometimes,” they continued, “It’s not really that uncommon, a lot of people sleepwalk. Surely I’m not the first you’ve met?”

Cassius gave the man a flat look, then signed, Sleepwalking, really?

There was a long, baited moment where they simply stared at each other, before the intruder slumped with a defeated sigh.

“Well, there seems to be no fooling you,” they said, running a hand through their curls, “You’ve caught me, then. What are you going to do?”

Cassius let the silence hang, thinking about it.

I’ll tell your sister, he signed, lips tugging up in a wry smile.

The man’s face paled, grey eyes wide in disbelief.

“You wouldn’t.”

Try me.

“I’m already a wanted man!” They protested, “I don’t need to be a dead one!”

Cassius tilted his head, studying them. It was almost comical, this sudden fear they had about their loved ones knowing they were here This was a person burdened by many secrets, someone on the run, someone with something to hide even from their closest family.

His curiosity only grew.

I wonder why you came back here, of all places, he thought, risking capture to go through a few files about the plague?

He sighed inwardly, already knowing that he wanted to give the intruder a chance. He told himself it was only because Portia had assured him many times over her brother was, at heart, a good person, despite all the wanted posters that said otherwise.

You have until morning to convince me otherwise, he signed, keeping his expression neutral, a single pale eyebrow raised.

There was a quiet moment while the intruder thought about it, clearly weighing the consequences. Slowly, a coy, playful look spread across the fugitive doctor’s face.

“Alright,” he purred, “Now that sounds like a challenge. What’s your name, angel?”

Cassius stepped back in surprise, the tips of his ears heating up and a soft blush dusting his cheeks. Portia had warned him that her brother was a notorious flirt, but the sudden endearment still took him off guard.

C-a-s-s-i-u-s S-n-o-w, he fingerspelled. Do you flirt with people holding swords regularly, or am I just special?

“Julian Devorak,” the man replied, “But you know that, don’t you? Flirting with danger is a beloved hobby of mine.”

And what about breaking and entering?

“It’s not breaking in if I still own this place.”

Do you? Cassius asked.

“Do I what?”

Still own this place, Cassius signed. You’re a fugitive, Doctor Devorak.

Devorak’s grey eyes met Cassius’ blue ones, and he held the dragon’s icy gaze unflinchingly. Then his expression suddenly softened, followed by a smirk as he seemed satisfied with what he’d found, and the sudden change left Cassius reeling.

“And you’re an enigma, Cassius Snow,” Julian Devorak grinned, “But I do love a good challenge.”

You have four hours, Cassius reminded, sheathing his sword and taking a seat atop one of the work tables. Convince me.

The handsome, red-haired stranger stood up, dusting his pants. He spun a chair out, sitting down with a weary sigh. For a moment, he simply studied the papers still in his hands, expression clouded, before folding them and setting them aside. Arms crossed and leaning against the chair with a practiced ease, he looked up at Cassius with a cocky, roguish grin.

“Well,” he said, “I suppose I should start at the beginning. Not the true beginning, of course, since I’m sure no one wants to hear the earlier bits of my life story, but from where everything began to go wrong. I’m sure you’ve heard about the red plague…”

As Cassius listened to the man’s smooth, clever voice and watched the dorky, adorable gesturing as the intruder spun his tale, Cassius came to the sinking realization that he wanted to help this fool.

“… and so I remain a wanted man, and will be leaving the moment morning comes,” Devorak finished, hands coming to rest in his lap.

Where will you go? Cassius asked.

“Oh you know, here and there. Travel the rest of the world, perhaps. Never in one place for too long. I’ll be out of your pretty hair for good, you’ll never even have to see me again.”

Seems a shame, Cassius signed, I was thinking that you seemed someone worth knowing.

“...Oh,” They said, looking almost surprised, “Well, I suppose it remains a shame, then. Those wanted posters aren’t just for show.”

What if I came with you?

The words were signed before Cassius even realized what he was asking. Eyes wide with surprise, he rushed to add that it was a mistake, and that he didn’t mean it but… that would almost be a lie, he realized, hands stilling, because I do want to tag along. Fuck.

“… what?” Devorak echoed, expression just as baffled as Cassius felt.

What if I come with you? He repeated, this time more certain. Being alone is never fun. Besides, he added, smirk playing across his lips, if I’m gone as well I can’t tell your sister, now can I?

Devorak laughed, light and genuine and welcome in the moonlit foyer, and the beauty of it struck Cassius like a sudden gust of frigid wind. It was something precious, that laugh. Something Cassius found he wanted to hear again, many times.

“Alright, if you really want to.” Julian agreed, “Company would be lovely, even if I’m being blackmailed into it.” His tone was light, almost teasing. There was a pause before he added, “Though I’ll have you know this is the sweetest form of blackmail I’ve ever encountered.”

And that’s how, hours later, Cassius found himself on a boat, listening as Julian explained the basics of sailing, both of them watching as dawn broke over the horizon and sent the sky into stunning shades of pink, orange and gold. Julian was grinning, eyes bright as he gazed at the sight.

What’s got you so happy? Cassius asked.

“It just seems like the perfect day to begin something new,” Julian said, turning to face him. “Don’t you think?”

— — —

Aaaaand now we have context for the picture from last day :D

#//i hope this doesn't suck #cassius #julian #lovelikeyours2020 #arc writes #the arcana #fan apprentice #lore #txt #something cute

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adoregoldenharry · 4 years

Text

Pop Princess h.s.

So this is a story I am writing on Wattpad only. This is only a snippet and it is currently ongoing. If you are interested then you can read it here: Pop Princess h.s.

(Not my gif)

My wattpad user : adoregoldenharry

Description:

Welcome to the world of fame and riches. Where Women and men are exploited for their god given talents. Kalisto Reed is anything but the average American girl. She's a pop icon turned disaster, as the gossip magazines like to put it. She finds herself in a girl group amongst others with a dream. One day she meets Harry Styles, the golden boy of pop music. Are they too different in each other's eyes? Or will that bring them together?

The beat of the wind lolling through the sky was calm and controlled. Palm leaved trees barely moving opposed to the usual impromptu force of wind. I sat outside on a dark wood lawn chair with blue and yellow striped cushions. The vitamins of the sun painting onto my skin and leaving their mark. The remnants of last night playing hide and seek in my brain.

Not much happened besides watching Shawn getting his face mushed into his cake by his family and everyone pointing their phones at him. I remember smiling and enjoying the moment knowing that someone could send me a video or two later on. The only other eventful thing would be after the conversation I had with Harry in the kitchen, we had gone our separate ways. I did catch his eyes looking for mine every chance it was allowed. It made me a little self conscious.

I was just staring into the sky with my over sized designer lenses. The clouds were coming in and slowly ridding the beams of light from the sky. I sighed watching the sunshine drift away. Closing my eyes seemed like the only solution to eternal relaxation on this day, so it's what I did. Then the door bell rang. "You're kidding me." I sat up sliding through the patio doors through to the entrance of my house.

"Were you swimming?" Shawn asked looking at my bikini. I shook my head moving aside to let him in. He was rather dressed up tonight aside form his usual jeans and tee shirt. His red dress shirt completed by the dark tone of his pants. Curls bouncing from his head in a 'I forgot to brush my hair' aesthetic. He was always one for dramatics. "Not that I don't love you and all but what are you doing here," I closed the door following him to my couch. Shawn sat himself on my leather couch bring me down with him. I could already feel my thighs getting stuck to the seats. "Since its my birthday..."

"You're birthday was yesterday." I interrupted him. He glared at me pulling a small giggle out of me. "As I was saying," He reiterated, " Since it's my birthday some friends and I are going out bowling tonight and I would like you to come." At this point I was already shaking me head. His jaw dropped and he stood abruptly from the couch. "And why not."

I shrugged, "I'm having a self care day."

"Move it to tomorrow," Shawn slouched back onto the couch. He was always so adamant. Honestly if it wasn't for him I would probably never leave my house. I found it comforting to be home where nobody could gossip about me or take an ugly picture that would be stuck on the Internet forever. He kept his eyes glued to me and before I knew it his bottom lip started puffing out. "No no, don't you start with that," I shoved his shoulder. Somehow some way this guy made his eyes sparkle in a way that it was just impossible to refuse any of his wishes. His charm and sleekness so intricate and obviously trained into him. He was a poodle.

I adjusted the strap on my bikini, rolling my eyes. "Fine."

He jumped up and pulled me into a hug. He hurried me and pushed me to my room to get changed. I rubbed my temples thinking about my absence of needing to find the right thing to wear. Settling with a color block inspired jumpsuit that really ended up being louder than I expected when I purchased it online. I looked at myself in my full length mirror studying what I saw. It's something I tried to get myself to stop doing yet here I was, doing it. For most of my life I've let my body define me because it was the epitome of this business. If you weren't pretty you would never make it far. People always made sure to let up their opinions on that. Being in the lime light was not fun or validating. It was toxic.

"You almost ready," Shawn shouted from the living room. With one last look I swept up my shoes to put on on the couch.

The sun barely started falling from its place in the sky. Street lamps igniting and making their nightly appearance. The top of Shawn's Jeep had been removed weeks ago according to him and it felt great. Nothing like a beach cruiser in a beach town. "Who are these friends that we're joining," I closed the mirror flap in front of me after applying lip gloss. "Oh you know," his voice faltered and his eyes kept on the dark asphalt.

I held my head up by my right arm leaning on the car door. My eyebrows shifting upwards waiting for him to continue his answer. "Just uh, Lenny, Kels, Aaron, uh Camila..."

I jumped in my seat. "Camila? You're serious."

"Look Kal, I know you don't exactly get along but please just do this for me." I huffed sitting straight back in my seat.

It was way more than not just getting along between me and Camila. There was this intense aura that surrounded the two of us when we were near each other. It was discomforting and unbeknownst to me why she baited such bad energy between us. It started when I first met her. Camila brought this sweet and girl tactic around with her. When I first started hanging around Shawn he introduced us and we got on well, so I felt. We were at a party at a mutual friend's house and took shots while making fun conversation.

That same night Shawn got up to use the restroom leaving us two to each other. Her first words alone with me were etched into my brain. "Don't get too comfortable, some people don't last too long around here." Ever since then she gave me a stink face at every event I saw her. Yet she loved to be around Leah, Audrey, and Mikayla. I was apparently some sort of bad omen to her. "I knew if I told you she was going you wouldn't come." I didn't answer, I just thought about what sort of night I was in for.

"And I really wanted you to come." He glanced back and forth between the road and me.

The bowling alley wasn't full to our luck. If it had been it would be Shawn's discretion to whether we would stay or not. We spotted our group at some lanes near the other side of the building.

"Harry is here. Why is Harry here. When did you two become so buddy buddy. You didn't say he was coming." I mumbled an edge of panic showing. He grabbed my wrist pulling me towards everyone. "Did I not say he was coming, I thought I did." I had a few choice words for my friend right now but we were too close to everyone at this point for me to shout like a sailor. Camila stood up and rushed to Shawn, hugging him and letting shrill noises come out of her mouth. I smiled at her which she didn't bother to return. Run up on me, I dare you.

I found myself in front of Harry who had a knowing grin on his face. "What a pleasant surprise." I rested my hands on my hips walking up to him where he sat on one of those plastic swivel chairs. "Fancy seeing you here, love." He stretched his long arms out and snuck them around my waist bringing me in for a tight hug. He smelled like vanilla and silk. I really hoped that harry couldn't feel or hear me sniffing him in. That would be very, not good.

"Be right back, I gotta go pick my balls." Harry laughed and stood up from his seat. "I'll come with you." We walked past the counters dividing the floor and the arcade. Lights were flashing in and out with loud stints of sound effects. The wall of balls not too far out from there. I tapped my hand on chin looking at the sizes and colors. "Why are the cute ones always so heavy," Harry stifled a laugh covering his mouth. I rolled my eyes jokingly, "Boys."

I decided on a nice orange color distorted one, only because I could actually carry it. Harry, however, whipped it right out of my hands holding it to his side with one arm. I tried to reach for it to which he protested. Insisting on carrying it for me.

He was saving the chivalry that men killed centuries ago. I could carry my own ball so to speak. I was honestly surprised by the night. Everyone seemed to have so much fun. I was happily entertained by the humor being passed around. Harry and Shawn were two jokers in cahoots. I couldn't stop laughing at one point to which I was of course teased about. Camila wasn't any bother either and I appreciated it. She stayed in her lane and I stayed in mine. I found myself staring a couple seconds too long at Harry.

The way his dimples got bigger with every inch of his smile. How he brushed his chiseled hands through his hair very often. Also how he focused with every sense on a person when they spoke. I was seeing experiencing his famous traits and wow did they project. He was mellow and hyper at the same time. It was exciting to watch. Harry turned to me and poked my cheek only lengthening my smile. I looked over to Shawn who was smirking at me. I sat up straight turning my attention back to Kels who was now rolling her heavy spheric rock down the lane. She got a strike and carefully walked back towards the ball return as she avoids slipping on the waxed floors. I've taken a spill or two in my time. Don't really like to talk about it.

It was ten till eleven and the alley was a little more packed. People were starting to recognize faces within the group so it was decided that after one more game that would be it for the night. I decided to pull out of the last game and strolled along to the arcade. I slid my hands over the air hockey table that sat vacant. Feeling for any air that might come from it. I huffed after I realized it had to be paid for before it turned on. 'What a let down' I thought to myself, leaning against the hunk of metal. "Wanna play with me?"

Harry walked up right behind me. I looked over my shoulder and saw a shit eating grin on his face that made me snort a bit of laughter. I nodded and stalked to one side of the air hockey table as he slipped a coin in the slot. Harry scrunched the sleeves of his black long sleeve up to his elbows. Slapping his hands together and then rubbing them in competition. I bit my lip trying not to give him the laughs he wanted. He could take them so easily from me. I wanted this to be harder but, he was so good and I was so easy for him. Right? "Fuck," Harry shouted when I made the first point. I jumped and cheered for myself while Harry furrowed his eyebrows readying himself for the next one.

I was sweating after six back and forth points. I needed just one more to knock him off. "Kal don't even think about it," Harry said watching me trying to cheat just a little.

"You don't even know what I was going to do," I dropped my shoulders staring at him in faux disbelief. Harry flipped his hair dramatically getting into another silly stance. I let the puck go back to the middle and tapped it towards him. He hit it back with a little more aggression than I had. I needed a strategy so I thought of something on the fly. "I really love the way your nails are painted," He picked up his paddle looking down at his nails. "Thanks I-," I smacked the puck with my paddle as fast as I could. The puck passed his slot down into the table. The scoreboard making noise announcing that I was the winner.

Harry's jaw had dropped and gently slapped his puck onto the table. "You tricked me."

"Oh. Did I? I'm sorry." I apologized with no guilt on my face whatsoever. He shook his head and crossed his arms walking around the table. He stuck his hand out to me mumbling a 'good game' to which I happily took. I was definitely a sore winner and like to rub my winnings in peoples faces sometimes. It was harmless on my end though so I will definitely keep doing so. Our friends were nearly done with their game. We looked for somewhere to sit and amazingly there was nowhere to drop our bottoms on seats. "Come on," Harry lead me back to the arcade where I had whooped him.

His tall figure bent down and stepped into the photo booth sitting on the small red bench. He held the curtain open for me coaxing me in with his eyes. The way he his stare held so much power was frightening. I squeezed in seeing that he took up most of the seat because well he wasn't the smallest person. He towered over me when we were standing and similarly when we sat. "We don't fit Harry," I laughed at how uncomfortably we sat. "Alright that's it." Harry rounded his hands at my hips and lifted me slightly to stand so he could position himself under me. Bringing my hips down so now I was sat on him. My breath quickened at the feeling and I felt light headed for a great moment. And for the next couple of minutes we just sat there. Enjoying each other's company. Until he started telling jokes that is. But I still enjoyed it. "Hey," I spoked trying to gather his attention, "Wanna do something fun."

Harry gave me quizzical look before I pulled three dollars out of my pocket. "You just carry change around like that in your pocket," I shrugged. Slowly straightening the dollars and then shoving them into the photo machine. We looked through the frames and filters finding the perfect ones for us. "Definitely that one." Harry poked a classy white frame for our strips. I agreed letting him poke the buttons. And not just because he had to lean and press his front against my back to do so. I felt a fire in my tummy that wanted to be let out. I didn't have the water to put it out. Not yet.

I pressed start and it began counting down. "Oh god what do we do." I never knew how to pose for these things. Harry placed his hand on the side of my face bringing it to sit on the side of his. We smiled and looked into the camera. Next we decided on a silly face and stuck our tongues out at each other. After the flash went off we both started laughing. His laugh was so sweet and melodic. It felt like the harmony of angel cries. Our laughs were quieting down but the intensity between us got louder. Green Rain by Mvzonik started to play in the background on surround sound in the bowling alley. I bit my lip again feeling like I was loosing control. Harry's eyes swiftly moved to my lips. Observing me in a very noticeable way. We had long forgotten about the photos.

I brought my hands up to his neck and his moved to my waist. In less than a second my lips were on his. They were so silky and plump, every girl's dream. His hands caressed my sides holding me still in place. The moment of our lips molding into each others felt blissful. Our eyes closed and yet it was pretty evident that the flash went off one more time. We pulled away staring in each others' eyes. Harry's mouth still slightly open and panting from current activities. I brushed his hair on the side with my hands. "Hey are you guys in there," a loud banging on the side of the machine. Harry and I jumped apart. I stood up almost bumping my head and fixed myself to make sure nothing looked out of place. I drew open the curtain walking out seeing Shawn standing against the wall, legs crossed. "Everyone's done let's get out of here and get you home."

I nodded looking back at Harry. "I can drive her." Harry spoke looking at me then to Shawn. "Yeah Harry can take me." Shawn nodded with a mischievous smile and gave me a hug. He shook hands with Harry talking a few words before leaving the two of us. Harry looked down at me making my cheeks turn red. Looking at him meant thinking about what just happened in this photo booth right next to us. He leaned over me with one hand on my waist. Plucking our two photo strips from the black plastic slot. "I rather like them."

Harry handed me one strip. I held the paper carefully in my hands not to wrinkle it. Three photos adorned the glossy memoir. One of us smiling, another of us being goofy, and the last of us sharing a kiss. A shy smile crept on to my face eating away at my nerves. "So do I." I laid my head on his chest and he wrapped his arms around me. We stood there for a few seconds before decided to head out. "You know if these photos ever get out, the media is going to have a field day."

"Well we did willingly hang out in public and made out in a photo booth. So I'd say we deserve it." We laughed walking hand in hand to his car.

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walkineternity · 5 years

Text

Day 9: Shackled

(Good Omens)

Perhaps, Crowley thought sourly, it was finally time to invest in colour contacts.

Sunglasses just weren’t cutting it anymore. Or, at least, these people seemed to think so. He was currently tied to a chair in the middle of a circle, occult symbols etched into the ground around him.

The manacles that held him in place burned if he tried to escape. Which he did, several times.

Look, he wasn’t expecting this, okay? World goes mad, Heaven and Hell have a big fight, and then it’s all over. Everything back to normal, see? With the exception of him and Aziraphale, of course. Above and Below have left them alone so far, and that’s the way Crowley like it.

But now this happens. There was an odd kerfuffle with a man in Aziraphale’s bookshop. He was looking for a rare book and was quite put off by the angel’s surly attitude. Crowley stepped in just to get him out of the shop, and that’s when the man managed to knock askew his sunglasses, revealing Crowley’s demonic eyes.

Well, that man proceeded to panic and run out of the bookshop. Crowley knew people occasionally saw his eyes, but for the most part, tended to forget. He supposes when Adam put the world back together, and said no more messing people about, he meant it. So. the man had a clear memory of Crowley’s inhumanness. Aziraphale was worried, but Crowley shrugged it off. Really, who was going to believe a story like that?

And then three days later he woke up like this.

Honestly, humans.

He was rather reluctantly impressed, though. He didn’t think anyone outside of Heaven or the Vatican had this kind of knowledge or materials.

“Ah, good. You’re awake.”

Crowley looked up from where he was trying to avoid getting burned by the manacles while still trying to slip out of them. It wasn’t working.

There, standing just outside the circle, was the man. And about six other people.

Without his sunglasses, he felt rather exposed. Which was silly. They were just humans, right? Well. Humans capable of trapping him.

“Silent treatment, hm? I suppose you are wondering who we are.”

The man sounded smug. Just because Crowley couldn’t seem to access most of his powers, doesn’t mean he didn’t have any tricks left. And this was such a minor one, a parlor trick.

“Oh,” Crowley said, focussing some of his will, “I know exactly who you are, David Hobson.”

The man, David, seemed a little taken aback, but not too surprised. The others murmured behind him. “So, you can still read my mind? Even locked up like this? Well. That’s interesting.”

Crowley let a smile grow over his face. It was not a nice one. “Oh, Mr. Hobson. David. It’s not only your mind I can read, but your past as well. The bike incident when you were ten. Your first kiss. The last time you lied. I can read your future, as well. Would you like me to tell you how you die?”

Crowley couldn’t really do that, but he was very good at faking it. Memories and thoughts were easy, the future was not.

Someone behind David took a step back. Good. But David held his ground. “You cannot scare me, demon! I know what you are! We are here to eradicate you for good!”

Crowley managed not to roll his eyes. The worst these humans could do was discorporate him. Which granted, was still awful. Especially because he doesn’t think Hell would take to kindly to seeing him back there.

Shit. Well. He will sort that out if it comes to it. For now, he has to deal with these humans.

“I am disappointed to hear that, David. I’m sure you and I can come to some sort of…deal. You and your friends here.” His smile turned into something a little more cajoling. “I have a lot to offer.”

The man’s face turned sour. “You can’t tempt me, demon! I am one of those chosen by God!”

Crowley frowned. He didn’t hear anything about that. No messing people about, right? Adam said so. What was going on here?

He gestured and one of the people in the back brought forth a glass container containing…water?

“We have trapped you with symbols of your opposition, and will decimate you with the water of the Heavens!”

Shit. Is that holy water? Crowley pressed his body against the seat, instinctually trying to get as far as possible from the person carrying the water. He can’t go very far, though.

The one good thing is that the humans couldn’t enter the circle without breaking it.

Nothing is stopping them from just opening the lid of the container and tossing the water at him.

Genuine fear started to creep up his spine. “Hang on there! We can talk about this!” He wasn’t sure they actually had holy water, but he couldn’t take that chance. “I can give you anything!”

He frantically looked around as no one took the bait. They were actual believers, weren’t they? Those were a dangerous lot. He focussed on a woman to the right of David. “Lauren! You dream of your mother finally accepting you! I can do that. I can give you everything you ever wanted.”

He knew it was messing people about. But. Does it count if they mess with you first?

He turned to the one holding the water. “John! Your son is ill. I can make him better! He doesn’t have to suffer!”

His face grew pale. Lauren seemed shocked. David, however, stood firm. “Don’t listen to him! All he does it lie! We must stop him. John. Prepare the water!”

But John seemed really affected. Good. Crowley looked at him and let his voice soften. “Your son’s name is Alex. He’s only fourteen. He loves football and chocolate ice cream. He is a good student. Even studying in the hospital. He’s never been kissed.” Crowley does not feel bad about one of his kidnappers. He doesn’t. These humans are crazy. And he doesn’t- “I’m…sorry about your son. I’m sorry he has to suffer. Please, let me help. Let me out.” Oh, bugger. Showing actual empathy. Some demon he is.

“Enough! John, do as I say! We are fighting evil here!”

John didn’t move, though. Staring at Crowley. Hope flickering in his eyes.

David wouldn’t stand for it, though. With a roar of frustration, he grabbed the container from John and ripped off the lid.

Lauren moved towards David. “Wait! What if it’s true? We’ve all prayed for Alex. What if he can help John?”

David threw a nasty look at her as her comment sent murmurs throughout the small gathering. “Stop sowing doubt! We were chosen! The Lord will reward us for destroying this demon!”

“Erm. Actually, it’s Crowley. My name, I mean. It’s Anthony Crowley.”

Another person spoke up behind David. A younger lady. “What kind of demon name is Anthony?” She sounded critical.

Crowley was defensive. “It’s a good name! I chose it myself!”

“Why wouldn’t you choose something scarier, then? Like Asmodeus?”

Crowley wrinkled his nose in disgust. “First off, already taken. Second, Asmodeus Crowley? Sounds horrible.”

David did not seem to like that the room was getting away from him. But John was already stepping closer to the circle. “Can you really help my son?”

Crowley opened his mouth to respond, but David stepped over and pushed John back, saying, “This has gone on long enough!” He raised the container back, lid off, liquid splashing, and seemed like he was going to chuck the whole thing right at Crowley.

Shit. Shitshitshit. Aziraphale, he thought desperately, was going to be so mad if he got murdered by humans.

And then David threw the container.

Aziraphale-

And then, standing in front of the circle, was his angel. Who was right in the path of the holy water. The container bounced off his chest and splashed water all over his face and down his tweed suit.

“Oh!”

Everyone froze in shock. Aziraphale took a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed his face. He seemed to take in the startled humans. Crowley wished he could see the expression on the angel’s face. For his part, the sheer relief at seeing Aziraphale was leaving him weak at the knees. It was a good thing he was already sitting down.

“Well, that was rude! Throwing water at me!” He paused. None of the humans spoke. David was looking between Aziraphale and the container. “Wait. This tastes like….is this holy water? Not just any, but blessed by…. Heaven? Where in the world did you get this?”

David sputtered. “It was supposed to work! On any demon!”

Aziraphale tutted. “Well. I’m not a demon.” He turned and spotted Crowley in the circle. “Oh! There you are, dear! I heard you praying for me. You had me worried!” Here he wagged a finger at Crowley, like it was his fault he got kidnapped.

Crowley’s hackles went up. “I wasn’t- I didn’t pray! Demons don’t pray! I was merely- thinking about you, that’s all!”

Aziraphale’s smile seemed to light up the room. “Oh. Of course, dear. Whatever you say.”

David seemed to have gathered up his nerve. He had taken out his cross and shoved it at Aziraphale. “Begone, demon! I-”

Aziraphale turned and frowned at David. He brushed the cross aside. “Enough of that, young man! As I said, I am not a demon! You are meddling in things you know not.”

The circle was made for a demon, not an angel. Aziraphale stepped over the circle and started to scuff the line with his shoe. David screamed, “Stop!” and leapt at the angel. Crowley had to give him props for his persistence.

Aziraphale didn’t even turn back, just snapped his fingers in annoyance. David disappeared.

Subsequently, all the other humans disappeared too. Well, not before freaking out and fighting each other for who was first through the door.

“Wow, angel! Where did you send him?”

Aziraphale shrugged and finished breaking the circle. Crowley immediately felt a wave of power return to him. He was still shackled to the chair, though. “I didn’t hurt him, of course. But he’s out of the way.”

Crowley didn’t think Aziraphale meant to sound ominous, but he did. Never get on the angel’s bad side. Aziraphale reached for the shackles and with a touch, they fell away.

Or, well. They were supposed to. Aziraphale frowned. “Oh, dear.”

Crowley bit back a curse. He was almost free. “What is it?”

“Well, these manacles seem to repel all occult forces. Demonic…and divine. We need a human to open them up.”

Crowley groaned and said, “Well, can you go get one, then? Adam’s little friends? The Witchfinders? Nutter’s descendant? I don’t know! The bloody mailman for all I care!”

The angel was about to answer when there was a sharp inhale from the corner of the room. Crowley and Aziraphale turned towards the sound, twin looks of bewilderment.

Turns out not all the humans ran away. John and Lauren were huddled in the corner. It looked like Lauren wanted to say something.

Aziraphale held up his hands and said, “Be not afraid!”

Crowley scoffed. “Does that ever actually work?”

Aziraphale frowned and looked back at him. “Why wouldn’t it? We’ve been using it for centuries. It’s to help humans settle down in our presence.”

“Yeah, but if you actually have to say ‘don’t be afraid’, usually means you’ve already made them afraid. It’s like if you killed someone’s dog and then said, ‘be not sad!’. You’ve already given them a reason to be sad.”

“It’s a comforting gesture!”

“If someone told me don’t be afraid, that would only make me more afraid.”

“Well, not everyone is as pessimistic as you-”

“Um,” a new voice cut in. It was Lauren. They cut off their brewing argument to look at her. She didn’t look as afraid now. More…bemused. “We can undo the manacles. If you want.”

Aziraphale beamed at her. “Of course! That would be lovely.”

Lauren stood up and gestured at John to do the same. “I want something in return, though.”

Crowley rolled his eyes. Of course. “Your mother, right?”

Lauren shook her head. “No. I mean, that would be nice, but it’s not what’s most important.”

John whispered, “Lauren, you don’t have to do this.”

Crowley frowned. “I know what you desire. That was your greatest dream. What else could you want?”

Lauren looked firm. “It’s not for me. You said you can help John’s son, Alex. That’s what I want you to do. Help him and I will let you go.”

Aziraphale was looking curiously between them all. But with those words, he focussed on John. Crowley knew what it was like to be under the full focus of an angel. It wasn’t the most pleasant experience.

John seemed to shrink under Aziraphale’s attention, but to his credit, managed to tell Lauren, “Oh, no. Lauren I can do this. He’s my son.”

She turned to him. “Oh, yeah? And what if David was right? John, your son and wife need you. If this works, great. If it doesn’t, then I’ll take the hit.”

Aziraphale spoke up. His voice was soft. “There’s no need for that. I am sorry about your son, Jonathan.” And he meant it, Crowley could tell.

Crowley spoke up. “Look, I just want out of here. Let me out and I can help.”

Lauren shook her head. “Help Alex first.”

Crowley looked down and then up, as if to ask if she was serious. “I can’t do anything tied up. We can make a proper Deal if you want…” Here he glanced at Aziraphale, “I’m not really supposed to be doing that anymore. So. You’re going to have to trust me on this.”

Lauren looked doubtful. “Trust a demon?”

Aziraphale cut in. “You can, you know. He really isn’t so bad, for a demon.” There were both fondness and teasing in his voice.

Lauren crossed her arms. “And who are you, again, exactly? If you aren’t a demon, what are you?”

“Oh, my name is Aziraphale. I’m an angel. If you want, you can call me Mr. Fell.”

Lauren looked shocked. So did John. He said, “Wait, an angel? Like from Heaven? Why are you helping a demon then? Shouldn’t you smite him or something? David said-”

Lauren interrupted him, “Well, clearly David wasn’t right about everything. Are you really an angel?”

Aziraphale shrugged and said, “Of course. That’s why the holy water didn’t harm me.”

The humans were silent at that. Both seemed to be a little overwhelmed by the experience. Crowley was getting impatient. “Yesss, I’m a demon! And he’sss an angel! We’re friendsss, okay! Got a problem with that?”

He was starting to hiss. Aziraphale took a couple steps back and put a hand on his shoulder. The humans stuttered out an agreement.

“No, no problem!”

“Not at all!”

Crowley sighed and said, “Good. Now, can someone please get me out?”

Lauren hesitated, but seemed to gather courage around her. She stepped forward and, in a fit of bravery, undid the manacles. They clattered to the ground, and she immediately stepped away.

Huh. Humans. They really did go and put faith in a demon.

Well. An angel and a demon.

Crowley stood and stretched his limbs, wings automatically coming out and brushing against the ceiling. He had felt so cramped. “Ahhh. That’s better.” He threw a grin at Aziraphale, who smiled back. “I suppose I owe you dinner, angel.”

There was a gasp and a muffled shriek. Oh, the humans. He turned to look at them, folding his wings closer to his body. “Er. Don’t be afraid?”

Aziraphale’s hand flew over his mouth. Crowley shot him a glare that said, don’t you dare laugh.

John seemed to find his voice. “Y-you’re free now. M-my son-”

Crowley waved him off. “Yeah. I know. Listen, I’ll do what I can, okay? I’m not great at miracles, but I’m going to try my best.”

Aziraphale moved closer and gently touched his arm. He leaned in and murmured in Crowley’s ear. “I can always help, dear.”

“Yeah and get in more trouble with Heaven? I can do this.” Crowley hissed back.

Aziraphale’s hand moved up and touched his cheek. “We are both already in so much trouble, what’s one more miracle?”

Lauren cleared her throat and Crowley moved instinctually away from Aziraphale. She still eyed them both. “Friends, huh?”

Crowley sputtered, thrown off guard, but the angel just laughed. It was gentle and bright.

He said to the humans, “You both were kind enough to help us. We will help John’s son in turn.” His voice took on a sterner tone. “For now, stay out of trouble. No more demon hunting, yes?”

Both humans nodded frantically.

Aziraphale seemed satisfied by their answer. He turned to Crowley and put a hand on his shoulder. “Now, dear, you said something about dinner?”

And they were gone.

The next day, John called Lauren with good news. It was a miracle, the doctors said. They couldn’t explain it. He could take Alex home.

John and Lauren knew who to thank, though. And in her prayers that night, for the first time, she didn’t pray about her mother. It was to say thanks. A prayer for a demon named Anthony.

She hoped that he, and his angel, found as much happiness as she felt in that moment. That John and his son were feeling.

And in her dreams that night, she dreamed of warm candles, the clinking sound of fine china, an angel’s bright laugh, and eyes like a snake, crinkled in tender amusement.

And the clear song of a nightingale, carrying her away into the night.

#whumptober2019 #no. 9 #shackled #good omens #crowley #aziraphale #tw mention of child illness #my writing #fanfiction #mostly book-verse #but takes the ending of tv-verse #u can picture tv characters if u want #not my first time writing good omens but first time putting a go story on the internet #hints of air conditioning #or #hints of ineffable husbands #whichever name u like #i know im like weeks late on this but im just gonna do as many as i can. thanksgiving and the federal election took a lot out of me

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