Summary: They say that a firebird rises from the ashes of shattered dreams.
Could they mend those dreams as well?
Cursed to be a firebird by day, Princess Aziraphale didn't ask to be cursed. She just happened to learn a secret that could turn the tide of war.
Crowley, a skilled knight for the Kingdom of Hell, assigned to seek out the firebird finds it difficult for when her duty tells her to do one thing... but her heart tells her another.
Notes: This is a part of @hetaliawritersdiscord ‘s OTP event! I chose the prompt “Firsts” for this fic!
Fic Notes: Tibet/Mongolia, oneshot, Human AU, Boy Scouts AU
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For Munkhbat, it had been a summer of firsts. Not exactly enjoyable firsts, but definitely a lot. For one thing, it was the first time he had camped in a dense American death forest with evil bugs and mosquitoes, and also the first time he went camping with his whole American boy scout troop, filled with frog sniffing, marshmallow flinging idiots. And the first time he actively wanted to get stabbed in the eye so he could go back to TV.
Alfred, a perpetually happy go lucky, frog sniffing kid, was humming next to him in the loose circle of 7 to 10-year-old boys around the campfire. Trying to prompt his shy twin to start yet another sing-along, Alfred also jabbed him in the rib and smiled, trying to start a conversation with a mouth full of s’mores. “Why do you look so grumpy?”
“I miss my TV.” He stared further into the fire, something that probably wasn’t good for his eyesight but was good at evading more questions from hyper American boys.
“Oh c’mon, camping isn’t all bad. It’s actually really fun!” the American chirped, devouring another marshmallow. “Yesterday I saw a bear!”
“The sighting of bears does not quench my desire to watch things other than trees and rocks.”
The Tibetan kid who had sitten on his other side, one of only other 4 Asian kids in his troop out of 32, giggled at that comment, and action that caused the grumpy Mongolian to turn away from the fire. “What’s so funny?”
“Nothing!” The Tibetan also started staring at the fire, and the Mongolian swore he saw the boy’s cheeks turn red underneath his scarf. Was the fire really that warm?
“Well..good. I guess.” He too turned back to the fire, starting to wonder if he should grab another marshmallow before the Italian brothers that talked in a funny accent devoured them all.
“Well, um, it was just that it sounded funny?” The Tibetan kid almost squeaked, like he was forcing the words out. He wasn’t that scary, was he?
“Thank you, I guess.” It was silent for a while, as he worked up a way to leave his comfy spot near the fire and his blanket his mom had burrito-ed him in to grab a marshmallow and bolt back to his seat without losing the seat to an opportunistic boy scout.
“What are you thinking about?” Snapping out of his escape plan, he drew his attention to the Tibetan boy yet again.
“Hm? Oh, I’m planning on getting a marshmallow but I’m trying to find out how.” He diligently watched the waiting line for when he should strike.
“O-oh!” The Tibetan kid exclaimed, smiling for some godforsaken reason. Was marshmallow war amusing to him? “I could get some for you!”
He blinked. “You would?”
“Sure!” the boy was practically beaming at this point, and Munkhbat felt slightly guilty for calling him ‘boy’ in his head.
“Thank you, um, what’s your name?”
“Tshering! Well, Tshering Palsang is my full name,” Tshering replied. “How many marshmallows do you want?”
“Uh,” he calculated for a second. It probably wasn’t polite to send Tshering on a mission to steal 13 marshmallows. “Just 3, thank you.”
Tshering nodded and left his seat, which Munkhbat silently put part of his blanket over to prevent anyone stealing it. Why was Tshering so interested in helping him? All he remembered from him after Tshering had joined the troop two weeks ago was that he was apparently struck mute whenever he had to talk to another kid and he was strangely good at sewing, from that one class last week. Maybe Munkhbat was just that charming he could get people to offer to do stuff for him spontaneously? Yeah, that was probably it.
Tshering came back with a handful of marshmallows, giving three to him and sitting down on his seat. “Thanks for saving my seat.”
“Don’t mention it,” Munkhbat replied with a mouth filled with sugary goodness. Man, this was the one good part of camping.
“You know, in my old troop, we all weren’t allowed to eat candy like this,” Tshering said softly, which Munkhbat’s ears managed to catch.
“Really? That sounds incredibly boring,” He remarked, and Tshering had a surprised look on his face when he heard him reply.
“Oh, well, I guess it was.” He looked down at the fire again.
“Where was your old troop?”
“Um, in New York. My dad moved us here to Colorado when he got a job. It’s my first time camping here, actually.”
“Wow,” Munkhbat’s eyes grew big, “New York? That’s awesome! My parents come from Mongolia, they moved here because my mom wanted to or something. I have to help my grandma with English stuff and my mom said that I had to go camping because she used to go with her nomad parents all the time in tents so I need to ‘connect with my culture,’” he rambled, now in a less grumpy mood and even smiling a bit.
“My grandparents are from Tibet, but I’ve never been there.” Tshering looked at his marshmallow. “I wonder if it's the same as Colorado, my grandma says it has lots of mountains.”
“I’ve never been there either, but hey it’s probably filled with mountains. But less misquotes than Colorado, I bet.”
“Yeah. Is this your first time camping here too?” Tshering asked, pushing his scarf up as wind raked through the trees. Even in summer the night air bit your skin atop the mountains.
“Yup. Hey, we have that in common! Hmm,” he tried to think of another thing they could have in common, glad to keep the boringness of the trip in the back of his mind. “Was this trip the first time you saw a bug in your tent?”
Tshering’s eyes lit up. “Yeah!” He was smiling now, leaning back as he thought of his own question, and then leaning back in and saying in a hushed voice, “Is this your first time sleeping in a tent with someone who snores?”
“Oh god yes,” Munkhbat groaned, rolling his eyes. He hated sleeping in a tent with Alfred. Stupid lottery system. “Is this your first time you saw a raccoon prints? And bird tracks that look like a kid made them with a stick?”
Tshering nodded and said with the carelessness they had thrown around in the conversation, “Is this trip the first time you ever had a cru-” The Tibetan stopped himself dead, covering his mouth and cheeks glowing bright red, looking mortified in his green Teen Titans Go scarf. Munkhbat was just confused. Was Tshering going to say crush? No way, there were no girls on the trip, and everyone knew boys couldn’t like boys. At least, that’s what his cousin said. Was he going to say cruise ship? Crutches?
The silence grew again, this time awkwardly, and Munkhbat tried to save the conversation by saying blatantly, “Actually, I never had crutches.”
The Tibetan boy beside him burst out laughing, glancing over at him with a confused but relieved look. “Y-yeah, me neither. Though I had an arm brace once.”
“Oh wow, you broke your arm? How did that happen?” This questioned prompted a whole series of events and conversation from the two boys as they chatted alongside the campfire, Munkhbat smiling and cheering up from his gloomy state of I’m-going-to-die-in-this-wilderness and Tshering grinning alongside him.
Alfred, from his new spot he traded with Matthew, glanced at them from his own conversation with the loud-mouthed Italian brother he, unfortunately, sat next to. He noticed how Munkhbat finally looked like he didn’t have a snake in his boots (hopefully, that would mean he would be so judgmental before they went to sleep in their tent), and the way that kid who sat next to him smiled so gently and had such blushing cheeks, grinning as they talked. Huh, Munkhbat would gain another friend and they could add him to their canoe team at the end of the camping trip, Alfred thought. He looked away and back to the Italian, leaving a boy with a crush and a grumpy Mongolian to their conversation about everything.
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Organization for Transformative Works
So here's the next chapter for my story for the otp event from @hetaliawritersdiscord I hope you will all check it out and like it!
Pairing: Spain/South Italy
Sunlight, and moonlight. Antonio had always preferred the first, there he could be himself without any worries. It was the latter though that gave him a chance he didn’t even think of having. Some might call that chance a dooming fate. Ever since that time, he never was truly himself anymore. Not since he made a promise he was never going to be able to keep anyway. Did he ever regret making that promise though? No, he did not. Now let me tell you the story, behind said promise. It all happened back when Antonio was still called Pirineos. When his only goal was still to protect the Spanish Pyrenees, like a proper spirit of the wild is supposed to.
