#<- this will be the tag im using for this for now

[tillydouspart]

and there we go! continuation of my hermitcraft but lore accurate au thing! with a reconciliation of sorts?

part 1 | part 2

[insidiouscha0s]

hi! im going to take your interest genuinely bc id like to think you specifically and the general audience wouldnt deliberately act naive to try and derail a post, so i am going to paraphrase the six years of cybersecurity training i have through work!

1) comes from a source that doesn’t check with who they say they are - for ex, comes anonymously but tags a specific blog — you cant actually verify that the message is from that blog, nor can you verify that the blog is who they say they are - this can also apply if their blog name and the name they introduce themselves with don’t match - for ex, if they say their name is maryam but their blog is ahmad-14707, then it is almost certainly a scam.

2) creates a sense of urgency - yes the current situation is dire, but they have three or more different emergencies in one message? they are trying to make you upset and turn your thinking off and your emotions on - for ex, theyre Palestinian AND their house is destroyed AND their child is dying and, and, and? scam. one thing, maybe two is a reasonable number to include in a message to someone you know, but the more urgent they make it sound the less real it’s likely to be

3) tries to get you to use a payment method that doesnt make sense - Paypal and GoFundMe don’t service the Middle East, so if this message points you to one of these services be EXTREMELY careful to check who the payee is for those accounts. if the names dont all match up, steer extremely clear. if the payee is different but not mentioned in the GFM link, avoid. If the payee is different but doesnt have proof that they have the ability to transfer the money to the designated recipient, avoid

4) the images attached to anything are commonly reused and/or AI generated - if you can reverse image search any of the images and theyre on several different pages, then they are more than likely not actually attached to the user noted and you should avoid donating to that person.

And here are some tumblr-specific red flags:

5) contacts blogs who dont have any posts about donations or who have no provably large following - why would they want someone who gets 3-4 notes on their own posts to share their needs? how did they even find you in the first place?

6) if they are reaching out in the replies of a post? avoid. theres no logical reason to spend limited time and internet access posting in random popular posts, esp when they aren’t related to Palestine

7) wording to other messages that are materially similar - you have to start reading the messages, but you’ll start to pick up on common phrases in the bulk messages that start to pop up, almost like they’re typing off a script - think: if these are all supposed to be different people, why are they all sending materially identical messages?

i have been on tumblr since 2011, so i have seen a lot of scams on this website. back then it was sick pets, then p0rnbots, and now those have all but disappeared and requests for donations for Palestinians have exploded in popularity.

its good of you to want to help people! it speaks well to your character and your heart, but there are a lot of people trying to get money out people who have little to give, and they arent nearly as well meaning as you are. they benefit greatly from scams like this - maybe your $10 isnt much, but when they can trick even 1% of tumblrs users into donating, they make a TON of money - 1% of 3M users is 30k people, and at $10 each that’s $300k. Even if they only get an average of $3 per person that’s $90k. To convert to the countries mentioned above, that’s the following amounts:

Cambodia: 300k usd = 1,201,435,291.26 khr, 90k usd = 360,430,587.38 khr

Myanmar: 300k usd = 1,312,881.07 myr; 90k usd = 393,864.32 myr

like i said, its really admirable that you want to help those in need. but its better to actually help than do what makes you personally feel good, and large charities with good charity navigator scores have the ability to help at a much larger scale than any individual can, and they usually help in immediate material ways - food or medical care etc, instead of giving money and hoping it’s put to best use.

I miss when I would get Tumblr asks that actually said things and weren't just digital panhandling scams.

[metalmachination]

three of them

[bangtanbeom]

'*•.¸undeniably yours¸.•*' 2

୨♡୧ part one / part two ୨♡୧ pairing: beomgyu x fem!reader genre: fluff, strangers to friends to...? , college AU, slow burn (trying to). summary: you and beomgyu are partnered for a group project, the connection starts off as simple friendship. but as you share quiet moments, unspoken glances, and moments of vulnerability, the lines between friendship and something more begin to blur. w/c: ~3.7k warning: not entirely proofread, fluff (might be cringe), an attempt at humor. a/n: sorry for the late post! i've been busy and wasn't at home BUT i wasn't expecting the positive responses when i posted p1, you making my heart flutter. thankyouthankyouthankyou :)) . +honestly, im not completely satisfied with this one, maybe bc i put some texting in the story, which i try to avoid(reminds me of my old ff when i was 14) ٩(ఠ益ఠ)۶ anyways i hope you'll enjoy this one! yayaayya <3 taglist: for the cuties who wanted to be tagged in the next part! @thearcherbeomgyu | @jellyyjn

a crisp breeze swept through the campus, tugging at the hem of your coat and sending golden leaves spinning across the pavement.

"hold this," beomgyu said, already stuffing a warm can of coffee into your hands before you could protest.

"i didn't ask for this." you said, staring down at the can with confusion.

"don't be ungrateful," he replied, smug. "it's a token of affection."

you blinked. "a what now?"

"affection. like... friendship love," he added quickly, with a dramatic jazz hand gesture and a smile. "the platonic kind."

you narrowed your eyes. "you just wanted an excuse to buy two and not look like you were holding two cans of coffee for yourself."

he gasped. "how dare you accuse me of such intentions!"

"you literally have another one in your pocket." you said, nodding your head to the can that was slightly sticking out of his pocket.

"that's my emergency coffee."

you chuckled as he pulled the second can out and held it with both hands like it was sacred.

he grinned. "i'm just saying, if the world ends in the next hour, at least we'll be caffeinated and cozy together under a pile of dead leaves."

"romantic," you deadpanned.

"right?" he said, a voice light but his gaze lingered before he looked away, brushing it off with a loud slurp.

you were half-wiping down a table when the bell above the cafe door jingled.

beomgyu walked in like he owned the place, wearing the most ridiculous mustard-colored scarf wrapped five times around his neck.

though, you admitted to yourself. he did look a little cute, maybe a little bit.

you squinted. "you're a walking autumn leaf."

"and proud," he said, flinging the end of his scarf behind him dramatically. "i come bearing good news and your usual banana latte.”

"you bought them from us," you pointed out.

"it's the delivery that matters," he said, placing the paper bag on the counter. "and i added cinnamon—because i'm thoughtful and mysterious like that."

you gave him a look. "you mean you paid for the extra topping?"

"that too."

he perched on a stool near the counter, kicking his feet childishly. "when do you get off?"

"why?"

"no reason. just thinking about waiting nearby until then so we can walk together."

"you're like a clingy child." you said as you shook your head, chuckling softly.

soobin looked up from his spot on the couch, one eyebrow raised as the front door clicked open. beomgyu slipped in, trying—and failed—to be quiet as he kicked his shoes off with more force than necessary.

"you're home early," soobin said, glancing at the clock. "only eleven this time. is the world ending?"

beomgyu scoffed, shrugging out of his coat. "it's cold. i have nerve endings. let me live."

soobin smirked. "that's not why you're home early. you usually don't even bother showing up 'til two these days."

beomgyu paused mid-step, then wandered over and flopped onto the armchair, head tilted back dramatically.

"caught in the act," he muttered.

soobin set his phone down. "so... who is it?"

beomgyu blinked. "huh?"

"whoever you've been hanging out with. you disappear after class, you smell like cafe pastries half the time, and some days you don't even sleep at home." soobin leaned back, arms crossed. "i don't care if you're dating or not. i just want to know who's stealing you from me."

beomgyu made a sound between a laugh and a groan, dragging a pillow onto his lap. "we're not dating."

"that didn't answer the question."

he fiddled with the pillow's corner. "it's no one. just—someone i've been spending time with. she's cool, can be funny, mostly calls me out on my shit."

soobin gave him a look. "so... you like her?"

beomgyu didn't answer right away. he just stared up at the ceiling like it would give him the answers.

"i don't know," he finally said, a voice lower now. "it's not like that. it's just... easy. being around her. like i can breathe a little slower, say weird things and not feel dumb."

soobin nodded slowly, letting the silence settle between them.

"okay," he said. "that sounds dangerously like a crush."

beomgyu groaned again, muffling it into the pillow. "it's not. or maybe it is. but it's not that kind of crush."

"what kind of crush is it, then?" soobin asked, amused.

"i don't know... the kind where i get her drinks or sweets without asking because i know she likes it, but i also feel like if i go any further, i'd ruin it."

"ah. the classic self-sabotaging emotional repression kind."

beomgyu narrowed his eyes. "what—? you've been reading psychology blogs again."

soobin just shrugged with a grin. "just don't wait too long and regret it later."

beomgyu was quiet at that.

soobin didn't press.

the hum of the radiator filled the room, steady and warm.

"did she at least like the drink?" soobin asked after a moment.

beomgyu leaned back with a soft smile.

"she said i looked like a walking autumn leaf."

"so... yes?"

"yeah, i think so."

winter came softly, then all at once.

one morning you woke to find the world outside your window dusted in white, the kind of snow that clung to tree branches like powdered sugar.

your phone buzzed.

beomgyu: look outside

you rolled your eyes, already typing.

you: wow. snow. groundbreaking.

three dots appeared, then disappeared.

then appeared again.

beomgyu: meet me in 10 mins. wear something warm.

you frowned.

you: why?

beomgyu: because i said so. and i have hot chocolate.

you hesitated, then sighed, dragging yourself out of bed.

beomgyu was waiting at the park near your apartment, bundled in a thick coat, and that same ridiculous mustard scarf, now half-buried under the layer of snowflakes. he held two steaming cups in his mittened hands.

"you're late," he said, grinning as you trudged toward him.

"you're insane" you shot back, but accepted the cup he shoved into your hands. the warmth seeped through your gloves. "it's freezing. why are we here?"

he nodded toward the empty park bench, already dusted with snow. "first snow of the year. tradition says you have to make a wish."

you blinked. "since when is that a tradition?"

"since right now." he plopped onto the bench, ignoring the way the snow melted against his jeans. "come on," he patted on the bench, beside him. "humor me."

you sat beside him, shoulders brushing. the hot chocolate was too sweet, just the way you liked it.

"did you put extra marshmallows in mine?" you asked.

he sipped his own drink, avoiding your eyes. "maybe."

you nudged him with your elbow. "soft."

"shut up and make your wish."

you laughed, but closed your eyes anyway. the cold bit at your cheeks, the steam from your cup curling into the air.

when you opened them, beomgyu was watching you, his nose pink from the cold, his breath a faint cloud between you.

"did you make one?" you asked.

he held your gaze.

"yeah," he said softly. then, clearing his throat, he stood abruptly, knocking snow from his knees. "alright wish time over. now we have to go build a snowman."

you groaned. "you're impossible."

he tugged you up by the wrist, his grip warm even through layers of fabric.

"and yet, here you are."

the snowman was lopsided.

beomgyu insisted it was artistic. you insisted it looked like it was barely surviving.

he gasped, pressing a hand to his chest. "you're bullying my son."

"you're son needs medical attention."

he laughed, bright and loud in the quiet morning, and something in your chest tightened.

the campus was nearly empty, most students already gone for winter break. frost glittered on the edges of the pavement, and you tucked your hands deeper into your coat pockets as you walked toward the library to return a book before leaving town.

you weren't paying attention when you turned around the corner—

"oh!"

—and collided straight into someone's chest.

a pair of hands steadied your shoulders before you could stumble back. "whoa, sorry about that."

you looked up to see a tall boy with soft features and an apologetic smile. when he smiled, his dimples appeared like magic.

"no, my bad," you said quickly, adjusting your bag strap. "i wasn't watching where i was going."

he chuckled, shaking his head. "campus is basically a ghost town now. i didn't expect to run into anyone either." he extended a hand. "soobin."

you introduced yourself, and he nodded politely. "you sticking around for break, or heading out soon?"

"leaving tomorrow actually," you said.

"lucky. i'm stuck here for another day because someone—" he cut himself off, eyes flickering over your shoulder. his lips curled into a smirk. "ah. speaking of."

you turned.

beomgyu was standing frozen a few feet away holding two takeout coffee cups, eyes darting between you and soobin like he'd just walked into an alternate dimension.

"uh," he said intelligently.

soobin raised an eyebrow. "you know each other?"

beomgyu's mouth opened, then closed.

you decided to put him out of his misery. "we have a class together."

"a class?" soobin repeated, voice dripping with skepticism. "right. that explains why you've been—"

"soobin," beomgyu practically lunged forward, shoving one of the coffee cups into soobin's hands. "here. drink this. stop talking."

soobin took the cup, amused. "wow. you remember i like mine with extra sugar. how thoughtful."

beomgyu scowled, his ears turning pink.

you bit back a smile. "you two know each other, i'm guessing?"

"unfortunately," beomgyu muttered.

"we're roommates," soobin supplied cheerfully. "which means i get to hear all about his very important study sessions that somehow always run past midnight."

beomgyu looked like he wanted to melt into the pavement. he shot you a panicked look. "ignore him. he's delusional."

"am i?" soobin sing-songed. "after all those nights you disappeared and came home smelling like sweet pastries and coffee?"

you raised your eyebrows in amusement and decided to twist the knife a little. "oh, really? what else does he say?"

"mostly just grumbling about how someone keeps stealing his hoodies," soobin said thoughtfully. "and something about cinnamon—"

"okay. we're leaving." beomgyu grabbed soobin's arm and started dragging him backward.

soobin let himself be pulled, grinning at you over his shoulder. "nice meeting you! good luck with your class!"

beomgyu shot you a desperate look over his shoulder—half pleading, half mortified—before they disappeared around the corner.

you stood there for a moment, snow dusting your shoulders, before pulling out your phone.

you: so that's your roommate you: should i apologize for the hoodie theft? or are we pretending that never happened

three dots appeared immediately.

beomgyu: i hate you beomgyu: also no beomgyu: keep it beomgyu: it looks better on you anyway

your family's living room was cluttered with leftover wrapping paper and half-empty mugs of cocoa. the tv played a holiday movie no one was watching, and your cousin was snoring softly under a blanket fort of gifts.

your phone lit up.

beomgyu: [photo attached]

you tapped the image—a lopsided snowman in what looked like a tiny backyard, wearing your borrowed frog pajama pants as a scarf. its stick arms were outstretched like it was begging for mercy.

beomgyu: emergency update: my snowman son is in critical condition. he's asking for u.

you pressed your lips together to stifle a laugh. your mom side-eyed you from across the room.

you: that's not a snowman. that's a snow crime you: also why is he wearing my pants.

beomgyu: he's cold. have some empathy beomgyu: also i miss them. they're comfy beomgyu: don't tell soobin i said that. he'll never let me live it down

you stared at the screen. the words "i miss them" echoed through your head, wondering if he meant the pants.

2:37 AM

you were sprawled on your childhood bed, scrolling through your camera roll—a dangerous game. there was a photo from last semester: beomgyu mid-laugh, his hair a mess, holding up a spoon like it was a microphone. you'd taken it during a study session when he'd been telling you about some argument that happened with soobin about some game.

your thumb hovered over the screen. not wanting to admit, you were missing him more than you thought you would.

a new message popped up.

beomgyu: u awake?

your heart did a stupid flip.

you: unfortunately you: why? did your laundry start talking back

beomgyu: no but my ceiling is looking at me funny beomgyu: also i found a choco ring under my couch. ate it. no regrets

you: you're disgusting

beomgyu: ur just jealous u weren't here to fight me for it.

you swallowed. the room felt too quiet.

unconsciously sending the message.

you: yeah. maybe i am

the typing bubbles appeared. disappeared. reappeared.

beomgyu: come back soon

three dots. then— 

beomgyu: my snowman melted and now the frog pants are sad and alone

you pressed your phone to your chest, as if that could smother the warmth spreading under your ribs.

the scent of laundry detergent and winter air filled your childhood bedroom as you folded the last sweater into your suitcase. outside, the morning sun glinted of the melting snow, turning the backyard into a shimmering mess of slush and half-dead grass.

your phone buzzed on the nightstand. again. for what had to be the tenth time that morning.

"you know," came a voice from the doorway, sweet as honey, "if you keep ignoring your packing to text that boy, you're going to forget something important."

you didn't even look up at your sister, sauntering into the room, her slippers scuffing against the hardwood. "i'm not ignoring anything," you muttered, though your fingers were already typing out a reply to beomgyu's latest message—something about his train being delayed.

your sister plopped down on your bed, sending a pair of socks tumbling to the floor.

"mhm," she hummed, plucking your phone from your hands before you could stop her. "and i suppose beomgyu is just... what? your academic advisor? your dentist?"

"give that back!" you lunged for it, but she held it just out of reach, her eyes scanning the screen with growing amusement.

"oh this is precious," she cooed, dodging your grabby hands. "'do you think snowmen have souls?' 'only the ones wearing stolen pajamas,'" she clutched her chest dramatically. "the romance! the poetry!"

you wrestled your phone back, face burning. "we're just friends."

you threw a pillow at her, but she caught it with a laugh, hugging it to her chest. "i'm just saying," she continued, her tone laced with amusement. "for someone who claims to be so annoyed by this boy, you sure do text him an awful lot. first thing in the morning, last thing at night."

"that's not—"

"and let's not forget the hot chocolate incident on christmas eve," she added, eyes twinkling.

you groaned. that had been a mistake—you'd been mid-sip when beomgyu sent a photo of himself attempting to make a snow angel, only to realize too late he'd done it in a mud puddle. the resulting spit-take had earned you endless ridicule from your family.

your sister leaned in, resting her chin on the pillow. "so," she said, her voice dropping to a low whisper, "when do i get to meet this mysterious snowman of yours?"

"you don't," you crumbled, shoving the last of your clothes into the suitcase with more force than necessary.

she sighed dramatically, flopping back onto your bed. "fine, keep your secrets. but just know..." she pointed a finger at you grinning. "i'm rooting for you two. anyone who can make you laugh like that deserves a chance."

you opened your mouth to protest, but the words died in your throat. because the truth was, you'd missed beomgyu's nonsense more than you wanted to admit. missed the way his texts could turn even the most boring day into something brighter.

as you zipped up your suitcase, you caught your sister watching you with a knowing smile. you threw another pillow at her for good measure, but your heart wasn't in it.

the new school year was starting—early march, campus was still shaking off winter's grip—slush piled in the walkways, buzzing with students reuniting after winter break. the air was crisp with lingering winter chill, but the sun was bright.

your eyes were traveling over campus, searching for the one who kept crossing your mind through your winter break. you spotted him from across the courtyard.

or—almost didn't spot him.

because beomgyu—the same idiot who once showed up to an 8 AM lecture wearing two different shoes, with the perpetually messy wolf cut, and constantly flipped his bangs out of his eyes like it was a personal vendetta—was gone.

in his place stood a boy with short hair.

short. hair.

gone were the shaggy layers that used to curtain his forehead. now his dark locks were neatly parted, styled just enough to look intentional but still soft, like he'd run his fingers through it one too many times.

and—oh. you could see his forehead. the sharp line of his brows, the way his eyes seemed brighter without the shadow of his bangs.

your stomach did something stupid. no. nope. absolutely not. this was fine, totally. people got haircuts all the time.

he hadn't noticed you yet. he was too busy wrestling with the vending machine, kicking it lightly while yelling something, unable for you to hear, when his snack got stuck.

some things never change.

you took a step forward. then another.

"need a hand?" you called out.

beomgyu spun around so fast he nearly tripped over his own feet. his eyes—wide, startled, then instantly crinkling with recognition—locked onto yours.

"you," he said, like it was an accusation. like he'd been waiting.

you grinned and crossed your arms. "missed me?"

he scoffed, straightening up. "like a toothache."

good. normal.

"your hair," you blurted before you could stop yourself.

his hand flew up self-consciously, ruffling the shorter strands. "oh. yeah. got sick of it."

then, he stepped closer—the haircut was even worse up close. it made his stupid jawline look sharper. "why? do you hate it?"

no. it was the opposite, actually. you hated how much you didn't hate it. how it made him look different, like someone who didn't just accidentally stumbled into your life, but belonged there.

pause.

you shrugged, fighting a smile. "it's... different."

"different bad?"

"different beomgyu."

he blinked. then, slowly his lips curled into that lazy, lopsided grin you'd missed more than you'd ever admit. "well," he said, stepping closer, "i brough you a welcome-back gift."

you eyes his empty hands. "let me guess. another existential snowman?"

"better." he reached into his pocket and pulled out—

a banana milk. slightly dented from the journey, but there.

"in case you forgot the taste, he said, pressing it into your hands. his fingers brushed yours, just for a second. just enough to make your pulse jump.

"it's lukewarm." you deadpanned.

"it's symbolic, and my pockets are warm." he said with a shrug.

you snorted, cracking it open anyway. "symbolic of what?"

he leaned in, grinning. "symbolic of my undying generosity."

the banter was... familiar. safe. you took a long swig of the banana milk.

beomgyu watched you, amused. "so?" he prompted. "do i get a review? on the—"

he gestured vaguely at his head,

"—new me?"

"it's hair. it'll grow back."

"devastating review. zero stars."

"you asked."

he sighed dramatically, but his eyes were laughing. "come on," he said, nudging your shoulder with his. "we're going to be late."

the knock on the apartment door was firmer than intended, and you immediately regretted not just texting beomgyu to meet you outside. but no, you had to return his stupid textbook in person—the one he'd left at your place weeks ago, the one you could've easily slipped into his bag during class.

the door swung open before you could overthink it further.

but it wasn't beomgyu.

soobin stood there, tall and unfairly composed, a low smirk spreading across his face as his eyes flicked from the book in your hands to your slightly startled expression.

"oh," he said, leaning against the doorframe like he'd been waiting for this moment. "you're the infamous hoodie thief."

you blinked. "i—what?"

he didn't answer. instead, he turned his head just slightly and called over his shoulder, voice dripping with amusement, "beomgyu! your crush is here!"

a loud crash sounded from somewhere inside the apartment—a thud, a hissed curse, the frantic scrambling of someone who had definitely just tripped over something.

then, beomgyu appeared, breathless, his hair sticking up in three different directions, his shirt inside-out. his eyes locked onto yours, wide and panicked, before he whipped his head toward soobin.

"i will end you."

soobin didn't budge. "you were literally just complaining that she hadn't texted you back yet," he said, gleeful.

beomgyu's head snapped toward soobin, "i was talking about— uh about something else."

"sure," soobin said, stepping aside, but not without adding. "he was moping, it was pathetic."

beomgyu looked like he was considering murder. "soobin."

his head turned to you. "—uh. hey." he said, his usual lazy grin plastered onto his face as his eyes met yours, yet you could notice his embarrassment through his facade.

soobin, entirely unbothered, leaned toward you and stage-whispered, "he spent twenty minutes trying to pick an outfit before you texted—yet failed."

beomgyu moved faster than you thought possible, lunging forward to hook an arm around soobin's neck, dragging him into a headlock, regardless of their height difference. "i regret ever introducing you to oxygen," he growled, ears noticeably pink—especially after his haircut.

you held out the textbook. beomgyu finally released soobin, who staggered away, cackling. his fingers swiftly touching yours, warm yet rough—from guitar strings.

the contrast sent a stupid traitorous shiver down your spine.

"thanks," beomgyu muttered, tucking the book under his arm. his gaze flicked over your face like he was searching for something.

silence stretched between you, thick and awkward.

soobin cleared his throat. "well, this is painful," he announced. "i'm getting coffee. beomgyu put on a shirt that isn't inside-out."

the door clicked shut behind him, leaving the two of you standing there, the air between you suddenly charged.

beomgyu exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "ignore him," he muttered. "he thinks he's funny."

you swallowed. "is he wrong?"

beomgyu stilled. his eyes met yours, dark and unreadable. "about what?"

"the moping, the outfit dilemma." you said, voice softer than you intended.

a second, just a second.

then beomgyu huffed a laugh, shaking his head, "you're worse than soobin," he said, but there was no bite to it. just something warm, something that curled low into your stomach.

he didn't deny it.

the cafe door jingled as you stepped inside, the familiar scent of espresso and vanilla wrapped around you like a worn-in sweater. you're fifteen minutes late—fashionably, you told yourself, though really, you spent too long staring at your phone, rereading beomgyu's last text.

beomgyu: you better show up. i stole the good table.

since mid winter break, your mind has been occupied—with beomgyu—even if you denied him in your head, he always came back, and on some days he never left.

soobin spotted you first, slouched on a stool at the counter, stirring iced coffee with a warm smile. "took you long enough. beomgyu's been sulking since noon."

your chest fluttered—something so trivial, moved your heart easily—he was sulking. he waited.

—but then you followed soobin's gaze to the corner booth. the one with the chipped table leg and the outlet that only works if you jiggle the cord just right. our usual table.

beomgyu wasn't alone.

© bangtanbeom 2025

[spoiledcarmen]

Crimson Moon

Pair: Batfamily x neglected!reader

tags: Child n3glect, Angst/No comfort, Hurt/No comfort, teens doing drgs, maladaptive dreaming, dead dove: do not eat, does this count as dddne??, MC is biological daughter of Bruce Wayne, No use of Y/N, Gotham Academy, made up characters, OOC canon characters.

summary: Basically the Wayne/Bat family but reader is Bruce Wayne’s daughter who doesn’t know they’re all vigilantes and they sorta neglect her since she’s not very important in their lives.

chapter: The Beginning Of Our End. (1/?)

authors note: This was my first work, i started uploading fics on Tumblr a few weeks ago, im doing so well!! this is also my most popular fic on ao3, so i hope Tumblr likes it as well!

PT.1 - (you can read the rest of the parts on ao3 while i publish the rest on here.)

14 years ago, Bruce had made a decision he would come to regret. on valentine’s day him and unknown woman appeared to be lingering around each other at a club. he would soon make an irrotational choice. with him chugging one drink after another that she kept bringing over to him and his table, his standards have dropped low enough for him to ask for something else, maybe something to eat. she said “it’ll cost ya.” in a hefty Gotham accent. he laughed and replied drunkenly and sloppy “oh really?”, her sensing she could make bank off of this obviously wasted billionaire, she played sultry. he gave her a stack of hundreds, its only natural that’s all he carries? after that, off to a room they went.

forward to November 14th you were born. 3 days later you were in a basket with a blanket over you with a note that stated your name with his last name, and date of birth. in messy handwriting at the bottom left corner it said, “your daughter.” as Alfred opened the door and saw you, he immediately brought you in inside before he read the note, and once he did he urgently called over Bruce, not wanting to alert the others. Bruce’s immediate reaction to reading the note was “shit… well i don’t doubt she’s mine. i remember that night like he was yesterday.” he rubs his forehead as a sign of stress and in deep thought. however once his gaze dropped down to you, peacefully sleeping in the warm environment of the manor, he knew he couldn’t help but take you in.

—————————⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆———————

when people thought of “Wayne”, they thought class, elegance, and power. and apparently you were exactly that, Since the moment you were born everyone thought of you as this radiating light of eternal beauty, a symbol of hope. whereas your father thought of it as a fresh start. Bruce has obviously fucked up with all of his other kids, so why not just do the opposite with this one? no becoming robin, no training, not being dragged into the whole vigilante world. just a normal kid. being Bruce’s biological kid had a lot of perks, like his last name and just a lot of money in general. the last name ‘Wayne’ itself, brought you a lot of social power. you liked it, it gave you what you didn’t have at home. Attention. something you severely lacked. the fact that nobody noticed with you being in front of a camera all the time is crazy, from the difficulty of staying on a simple task to unintentionally interrupting conversations to being easily distracted.

—————————⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆———————

which now brings you to the present. always wondering where everyone went at night, always wondering why nobody wanted to sit around by you, always wondering why everyone was careful around you, always wondering why.. not even your father gives you attention, why would your family? you’re not special. you’ve never been special. other than being somewhat pretty enough to put you on the cover of a beauty magazine and not a news paper,smart enough to get above passing, but you’re not very special. in your room in bed, late at night, you always hear chatter. you seem to think there’s a party you haven’t been invited to which is nearly impossible, who wouldn’t want you around? but every time you go downstairs, no one is there, was it your imagination?

no it can’t be.. you can still clearly hear them. you can hear Damian making another snarky comment, Richard laughing with Babs, you can almost hear Jason shuffling around the room with Alfred asking if anyone needed anything. so where could they be? hiding? from you? not impossible. but how could they be hiding but their voices being this clear? after a while of looking you decide to just go back to bed, maybe you’re just tired from today, even if you didn’t really do much.. you get back into bed, yet you can’t shake off this feeling, it feels like a hole in your stomach, feeling like you’re missing out on something. nevertheless you decide to just swallow the feeling and push it down to try and sleep for school tomorrow.

—————————⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆———————

you wake up but your vision is very blurry, hazy, weak. you try to rub it out of your eyesight but it doesn’t work, the harder you rub the darker your vision becomes, soon enough it’s pitch black. you open your eyes to see a large moon, with crimson red around the edges, ‘crimson… moon?..’ you think, your eyes are fixated on it. you can’t seem to move. you look down and see a hand reaching out to you, it’s luring you to grab it, to reach back to it, to hold it. you want to but you simply cannot move. you look back up at the moon, it’s craters seem to be eyes staring back at you, yet they don’t blink, they cannot blink, you cannot blink, however you still try, you know you can’t do it regardless you still try. and you succeed, you blink.

—————————⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆———————

you truly awaken from your nightmare and wake up out of breath. like you just ran a marathon, you rush to the bathroom and go and wash your face, you watch yourself in the mirror, making sure that you are still you. everything checks out and you continue with your morning routine, shower, brush your teeth, skincare, makeup. by the time you’ve finished your routine you’re already late to breakfast, you rush to get your uniform on, you take one last look in the mirror at yourself and see your uniform that says “Gotham Academy” on its stupid logo. you sigh, having to dread putting it on everyday.

you rush downstairs to see only Alfred, “Where’s Damian? doesn’t he have school too?” you say sarcastically, Damian gets to skip if he’s feeling tired or just bored of school, but apparently you can’t. Alfred replies “Master Damian is a bit under the weather, excuse him from breakfast this morning.” you’ll excuse him, you always will. you ask your final question of the day, “And where’s father? and the others?”, Alfred sighs and replies “Master Bruce has already left for work, as for the others, i’m pretty sure a few of them are sleeping in. ‘Checks out.’ you think, you nod and take your sandwich to go, rather to eat it on the car ride there. the car ride to school was awfully quiet, the only thing you could hear was the sound of your sandwich wrapper, not even the radio was turned on, you’ve forgotten your headphones so what a joy this car ride has been. shortly after, Alfred announces you’ve arrived, you get out of the car and throw the sandwich wrapper in a nearby bin as you wave him goodbye, you watch him drive off and heavily sigh.

—————————⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆———————

your entire demeanor changes as soon as Alfred drives off, after all you’ve got an image to maintain. you’re all sunshine and rainbows as you walk up to your group of friends, all of them as happy as you are, they greet you one by one. after a while of chitchatting about nothing really important, the bell rings, everyone whines about having to go to class, “Well, we do still have lunch and that party after school?” you reassure them. “are you sure you’re coming? last time you cancelled last minute.” one says and another nods. you furrow your eyebrows and try not to roll your eyes, “i’m sure. i won’t cancel this time.” you say, none of them know you had to leave because you were just overwhelmed by the peer pressure of vaping or whatever is cool now.

you and another one of your friends, Heather, decide to stop wasting time and go to class, Heather asks “Where’s your brother?” you take a deep breath, not even wanting to utter his name, “Damian’s sick.”, She replies “Oh really? i was hoping i’d see him today.” she seems rather bummed out hes not here. You raise an eyebrow and decide to press for more, “huh.. why’s that?”, you’re pretty sure she likes him, but you don’t wanna get the wrong impression. “i wanted to talk to him about something..” she says with a slight smile on your face, you swear you could see her blush. “about what? i’ll tell him when i get home.” you smirk at her as you both walk into class, “oh nothing! i’ll just tell him tomorrow.” she rushes to her seat, you try to keep up with her.

you take off your backpack and get out your pencil case and notebooks as you remind her, “you know tomorrow is Saturday? right?”, she laughs it off nervously and spits out “yeah totally! just slipped my mind!”, you side eye her and think ‘who does she think she’s fooling?’ however you brush it off and go on with your day. the rest of this class was pretty tame, you muted out whatever the teacher was saying and just thought about your dream, you were debating on telling Heather but she was one of those freaks who thought every dream had a meaning, and if you did ask her she could just make you more nervous about it. you awaken from your trance and see the board covered in writing from top to bottom, you stare at Heather wondering why she didn’t tell you. you immediately pick up a pencil and start writing.

as soon as you finish writing the bell rings once more, you instantly pack up your things and rush out of there, a few people try to talk to you however you were too fast. you go to the locker you didn’t have a chance to go to in the morning and take put some books in and take some out, you check what class you have next and it’s biology. You and Heather basically have the same schedule so you tap her on the shoulder, “Wanna skip the rest of the day?” you ask nonchalantly, “Sure, but how’ll we get out of here?” she replies as she closes her locker door, “don’t worry, i’ve got an idea.” you smile as you grab her hand and run out to the courtyard, “and what now? we’re surrounded by concrete.” she says snarkily. “just wait! we have to go to the classroom that’s on the left and just sneak out the window. it’s empty, nobody has computer until forth period.” you hold her hand tighter as you run to the classroom together. “we have to be fast before someone sees us!” you say, she replies as she scoffs “no shit Sherlock..”

you enter the classroom and make her hold your bookbag as you struggle to get out through the window, nevertheless you do it. “see! come on!” you take your bag and her bag as you encourage her to come towards you. “you Wayne’s are amazing. it almost makes up for the fact you don’t give anyone attention.” she says with a laugh as she goes through the window. you scoff when you get referred to as a Wayne, you are one but.. you don’t like to get mixed up with them, you’re a different category of Wayne, you enjoy the spotlight, much more forced into it.. yet you brush it off and say, “well.. i certainly give people attention. i don’t know about the others.”

—————————⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆———————

you both walk the streets of Gotham with your backpacks on your back and strange looks on you, Heather says “why is everyone looking at us weird..”, “because we’re supposed to be in school, genius.” you snap back. “Oh! Oh! we should go explore!” she says enthusiastically as she points to Arkham Asylum. you stare at it as you wonder how it’s a miracle no kids have been snatched from the school and taken there yet, or maybe they have and you just don’t know about it. nevertheless you reply to her and scold her, “No! what the actual fuck are you thinking! no way in hell im going in there or letting you go in there!”, “you’re so lame..” she says as she walks past the asylum with pouted lips, you roll your eyes and say “i’d rather be lame and alive than cool and dead.”

you see she’s pretty upset about being scolded so you suggest you both go get some food and ice cream to pass the time. her mood instantly gets better as she grabs your hand and rushes to the nearest fast food place, “okay okay!” you say as you try to keep up with her running. once you get there she says “you’ll pay obviously.” you roll your eyes playfully and agree. the place is pretty empty since everyone is either at school or work, you both get to the cashier and the cashier says, “aren’t you girls supposed to be in school?”, Heather stares at you and raises her eyebrow at you, which basically means ‘say something!’ you look back at the cashier and say “do you want or business or not. if so we’ll both have a small chicken sandwich with fries and diet coke.”, the cashier nods reasonably and takes your order and hands you the card reader, you pay and Heather hugs you by your shoulder. “alright get off now.”, you tell her off as you aren’t a very affectionate person.

—————————⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆———————

she sits down at a table while you wait to get your food, the place is empty, why on earth are they taking so long?… after a while of waiting you finally get your food and go to your table. Heather immediately takes her food before you even set the tray down, you just roll your eyes and sit down to enjoy your food. “are you seriously going to the party later?” she says with her mouth full of food, you raise an eyebrow and say hesitantly, “of course i am, why are you asking?”, she shrugs and replies “ehhh.. i haven’t seen you go to a party in a while”, you laugh and reassure her once again “dont worry. i’m going and i’m going to be one hell of a party animal.”

[potato-lord-but-not]

hey, sorry this is anonymous (im on main) but this is @ur-fav-gets-souped and i just got a request to soup arthur lester and john doe malevolent, but specifically your versions. would you be ok with that? id credit you and tag you in the pos of course, i just want to make sure it'd be ok bc i havent used fanart to fufill an ask yet :3

Yes absolutely soup those bitches RIGHT NOW

[sekanithezombie]

WHAT NO WAIT SORRY MAL I NEVER SAID ANYTHING IM A LIAR DONT TRUST ANYTHING I SAY

They did it... they killed the elderly traumatized lonely lgbtq+ rights supporter single girl dad both in game and on screen...

[forsaken-headcanons]

we r so back and hello new mods!!!! assorted hcs beam (take care of urself mods 🫶)

-two time doesnt like water. the survivors use this to their advantage. spray bottle!

-c00lkidd was the type of kid who hhATED baths/showers. had to be wrestled/bribed into them it was the worst

-when c00lkidd was older (maybe 9-10, just a bit before getting forsaken) he found 007n7 crying over the stress of raising him. he loved his son, but sfoth above it was hell raising him especially as a single father. c00lkidd behaved a lot better afterwards. too bad he never got to fully make it up to his father

-i feel like jane and john doe were the most healthy average suburban married couple. wanted kids and a dog. worked a 9-5. all the works. theyd gift each other flowers bimonthly, regularly went on dates, etc.

-jane doe was the one who proposed tho

-two time tried to stab one of the survivors the first time they got to use the dagger/the first time they got hold of a knife. safe to say everyone else now keeps them FAR from the kitchen

-the survivors also stay far away from two time after rounds until someone can get the dagger away from them

-the more normal looking skins (clothing changes, costumes etc) r just the spectre throwing them in the cabin for funsies

-the baker and lulu skins for elliot as yuri. idk im desperate for yuri

-noob has managed to convince multiple of the survivors to wear a dress from their wardrobe for the funsies

-c00lkidd has been kinda scared of/weirded out by two time since the time they tried preaching to him about spawn. he doesnt really like playing with them

-the shark onesie is actually just 007n7’s pajamas. one time the spectre started the round while the survivors were supposed to be sleeping because it got bored so everyone was running around in their pajamas. chance was making fun of guest 1337’s old man ahh pjs for like a week straight

-chance flirting with anyone and everyone (intentionally and unintentionally. its the Casino Charm (except the children ofc)) he’s been punched multiple times

-007n7 and guest 1337 unintentionally parents the survivors a lot

-^ one time noob cut themself on accident outside of a round and 007n7 gave em a bandaid and instinctively went “thank you for being so brave!” and pat them on the head, then was going to get them a candy before realizing what he did and just. both sat in stunned silence for like 5 minutes

-^^guest 1337 once accidentally began telling shedletsky to eat more veggies when they were eating together and uh. yeah it’s pretty awkward trying to lecture the equivalent of a god who’s hundreds older than you

-^ i hc shedletsky is just the human form of telamon, who’s like. an old god

-two time, noob, taph, elliot and chance end up being the subject of The Parents the most often

okay im done now runs away

- :3 anon

Hello there!! We will, thank you ^^

All of these are so fun… Always love hcs of 7n7 and 1337 being father figures to the survivors lol.

I also just want to say I went back and forth tagging everything on mobile and only realised I didn’t put the anon tag after I was done. so I had to backspace and retype it all. idk if I missed anyone

[amethystfairy1]

Ok so theory crafting time (this is gonna be a long one i both am and am not sorry)

first and foremost: I don’t believe the breakup will be permanent. Not fixed in this fic, but i just don’t believe you would deny us one of the major partings we’ve spent all this time on for the next two arcs

Prediction 2: the breakup will be Grian and Scar or Zed and Tango

- unless Zed goes bellow bedrock his and Tangos relationship is in hot water. Best case scenario the complete isolation is more of a pause than a break up, worst case scenario Tango blames Zed for his (inadvertent and unwilling) part in all this and leaves him. I’m hoping so hard for the former, or for Zed to go bellow but it’s a real possibility

- I worry about the strain this will put on Grian and Scars relationship. Scar may be forced to do something he doesn’t want to that hurts Grian, but even disregarding that, their superhero identity’s mean this impacts them more then the other couples. Less likely then Zed and Tango, and definitely not permanent, but possible

Prediction 3: I do think someone will be trapped on the wrong side of the bedrock, and I think it’s gonna be:

- Zed by choice to live with Tango

- Scar by force from Blackwell if he keeps pushing

- Martyn by accident, i have no reasoning for this one but a role swap with him below and Ren above would be cool (and break my heart keep them together i beg)

could be someone else? but those two feel the most likely as of now

Prediction 4: Pretty Obvious but they aren’t gonna be able to stop this in time, and figuring out how to reopen the rifts will be a primary focus in the next arc

not a prediction but: The fact that Ren and Martyn are taged in this, plus the metaphors tag implies their relationship will be important scares me. Treebark is my favorite if they are the breakup im gonna cry (exaggeration dw)

Prediction 5: we are gonna get a bigger emphasis on the undercity in this fic/the next arc as we see how this effects them and the science-y people down there try and melt bedrock

And for something you can reply to: I was looking for Treebark fics by popularity yesterday, and like half of the top/best looking ones were yours

More theory’s will come as I make them :)

Man everyone is SOOOO scared of that break tag tag XD

Well, I won't answer any of this, buuut

The top Treebark fics are me!? WHAT!? HOW DID THAT HAPPEN!?

O-O damn ok I guess Ren and Martyn are killing it in my AUs wowie...

Thanks for all your theories I LOVE seeing them! Thank you for reading!

[lumikuutti]

I may or may not have started an ISAT Omegaverse series on AO3

Oops.

Anyway here's the series link https://archiveofourown.org/series/4783648

It currently has two fics One Character Study (there's more of those incoming) You're a vagrant bird (come find a home with us) (4272 words) by Lumikuutti Chapters: 2/2 Fandom: In Stars And Time (Video Game) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Bonnie & Isabeau & Mirabelle & Odile & Siffrin (In Stars and Time) Characters: Odile (In Stars and Time), Everyone else in the party gets mentioned Additional Tags: Odile-centric (In Stars and Time), POV Odile (In Stars and Time), Alternate Universe - Omegaverse, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Character Study, or as i call it, A Think Piece, or as my word doc says, Think Pieees, Alpha Odile, Omega Odile, Beta Isabeau, Omega Isabeau, Omega Mirabelle, Omega Siffrin, Alpha Siffrin, "but how can they both", it's two versions with different designations, because im indecisive Series: Part 1 of Omegaverse ISAT Summary: Coming to Vaugarde was the best decision you ever made. And one family fluff Odile & Siffrin bonding time fic post loops The mortifying honor of perceiving and being perceived (2867 words) by Lumikuutti Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: In Stars And Time (Video Game) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Odile & Siffrin (In Stars And Time) Characters: Odile (In Stars and Time), Siffrin (In Stars And Time) Additional Tags: Minor Isabeau/Siffrin (In Stars and Time), Minor Odile & Isabeau, Isabeau is there in the background, Alternate Universe - Omegaverse, Designations are up to interpretation, But Siffrin is late in presenting, Hasn't presented yet, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Found Family, Two idiots who haven't really experienced almost any touch for years hug and cuddle for an extended amount of time, Preening/grooming, Scenting, All that good Omegaverse stuff, that's rated E for Everyone, two idiots take the time to perceive each other Series: Part 2 of Omegaverse ISAT Summary: Odile feels guilty for her part in excluding Siffrin from the flocks bonding. So she does something about it. It doesn't go quite like she planned for it to, but then again, neither of them are very good at this. But they make it work.

So uh yeah go check them out if you want some yummy Omegaverse ISAT (mostly featuring Odile for now)

[myfairstarlight]

For Every Question Why (You Were My Because) - Chapter 1

AO3 Link // Next

Rated: T (for now)

Chapter length: 4k

Role Reversal/Roleswap AU. Summary:

In an attempt to protect the angel Aziraphale has found himself smitten with, he accidentally starts the Rebellion earlier than divinely intended. Now Fallen as a demon who walks the Earth under the name of Astrophel, he seeks to move on and make the best of his situation which is proven to be difficult when the angel he sought to once protect and who barely spared him a glance Before keeps seeking him out over the years, guilt pouring out of the angel's every word and action. Surely, nothing wrong can result from this predicament.

⋆ ✩₊˚ ʚ♡ɞ ˚₊✩⋆

Before.

Time had no true bearing in their existence, and yet everything seemed to have happened in the blink of an eye. Aziraphale witnessed the creation of the universe, stars bursting right before their eyes, and suddenly here they were, as Time stood still for Judgement after a tenuous rebellion that turned into a full-blown War.

Lucifer stood in front of them all, arms outstretched as if attempting to protect them, protect them like Someone Else should be doing. Aziraphale looked upon the sea of angels surrounding them then up to the Archangels, their wings and halos on full victorious display. Gabriel and Michael seemed to shine the brightest as together they prepared the Fallens’ upcoming punishment, and Aziraphale could see a familiar face next to Raphael who looked down on the crowd, brow furrowed with concern.

In their shared moment among the stars, Aziraphale had forgotten the status the angel they so admired possessed. Janiel was a Seraphim often standing next to the Archangels, perhaps they never needed to be protected. Perhaps this was all futile, perhaps this could have been avoided. Aziraphale chuckled to themself and looked down. They did not regret it, however, perhaps it would be freeing, to not worry so much about what She thinks.

(And they refused to show fear, if a Fallen they must become, then they shall hang on to their Pride and Dignity for no one could take that away from them, not even the Almighty.)

And as their wings failed them when the clouds parted beneath their feet and brilliant light became all darkness around them, Aziraphale embraced it, they closed their eyes in acceptance even as they burned and bled ichor, and held their heart in their open palms as they dove into sulphury pits.

For, out of spite, they would carry Love until the very End (and Beyond).

⋆ ✩₊˚ ʚ♡ɞ ˚₊✩⋆

At the beginning. Eden.

A lone demon stands on top of the Eastern Gate, pondering at the horizon when they hear the flutter of an angel's wings to their right. They usually would have flown away instantly but they cannot sense any hostility from the celestial being so they stay put, a little curious.

“Well, that went down like a lead balloon,” says a new voice.

Aziraphale frowns. “Pardon?”

“I said, that went down like a lead balloon,” the voice is now much closer and sounds rather familiar.

“Oh, it's you,” Aziraphale says, turning around to face the angel. “Janiel.”

Janiel hums. “It is… and you…”

Awkward silence follows until Aziraphale understands they were meant to fill in the pause.

“Oh! Call me Astrophel, I suppose.” Astrophel. Aziraphale had come up with the name on the spot when Satan was about to name them instead— it sounded close enough to their angel name and they feared what Satan could have come up with when the demon in front of them on the line ended up with Furfur.

(They have nothing against Furfur as a demon, they just think the name sounds quite silly.)

Another shorter pause.

“You suppose? You don’t like it?” Janiel asks.

Aziraphale frowns. Are they that obvious about it? “Not really, but I cannot use my God-given name, She has forsaken me, after all.” Why were they being so honest?

“Then who says you can’t?” Janiel points out. “It was a pretty name, after all.”

Another goddamned pause. “You remember it?”

“Of course I do, Aziraphale,” Janiel answers quickly. There is a softness and sadness to their words. Something uncomfortable yet warm settles in Aziraphale’s chest.

“I fear it’s still Astrophel to you.”

Now disappointment fills the air. “Right, sorry.”

Aziraphale fiddles with their fingers. “So. Are we not addressing what just occurred?” they ask. “Adam and Eve escaped from the gate you were guarding after I tempted them to eat that Fruit and you’re strangely… calm about it. Come to think of it, there was a massive hole in the wall, or so I was told, how come you did not fix it?”

(The temptation was an accident, truth be told. Aziraphale had let themself be guided by the delicious scent of the apples gathered in the middle of the Garden and, feeling quite peckish, tried to take one with their beak. Eve just happened to be near and saw them, so Aziraphale offered the apple, comically cradled in one feathered wing.

“But it is forbidden,” she had said even as she welcomed the owl onto her shoulder.

“Why, dear, no one is guarding it, it is free for the taking,” the owl answered.

And so the Original Sin was committed.)

“Um…” Aziraphale can hear the angel nervously shuffle and twist the fabric of their robe. “I punched that hole myself and told them to go quickly…”

“You— you what?”

“You heard me perfectly, Astrophel.” Ah. Janiel sounds annoyed now. “I mean! It didn't seem fair to leave them trapped here, did it? If they wanted to go out, then so be it. That's their choice, and who am I to deprive them of that?”

“A Seraphim and the guardian of the gate meant to keep them in.”

Janiel winces. “Well, perhaps— even so! The Almighty would have cast them out as soon as She heard of this so it was better that they escape instead, I think. I just… don't understand what's so bad about them now knowing the difference between good and bad anyway.”

“But I made them eat the Fruit, though,” Aziraphale reminds them. “Remember? I do hope I did not accidentally do something good… I'm a demon, you lots were supposed to stop me or something? In fact, why haven't you smitten me on sight?”

“... I recognised you, and didn't want to.”

That uncomfortable and warm feeling is back in Aziraphale's chest and they ignore it once more.

“Perhaps you did the wrong thing then," the demon says.

“And you did the right one?”

“Would be an ironic predicament—”

“Why does Adam have a flaming sword?!” the angel exclaims suddenly. Aziraphale flinches at the outburst. “Where did that come from?!”

Aziraphale hears the crackling of fire beside them and they suppose the angel has summoned their own flaming sword, as if making sure it didn't go missing.

The demon suddenly looks up, badly feigning innocence as they feel Janiel look at them intensely.

“That was you, isn't it?”

Aziraphale can't quite place their tone. Not exactly accusatory, more curious. “Mm.”

“You managed to keep the sword you were given as an angel only to give it away to humans?”

Which meant something else neither of them wanted to address out loud.

Aziraphale didn’t fight.

“Such a dangerous power in that man's hand ought to be interesting,” Aziraphale sniffs. “I just thought it would be… chaotic, entertaining.”

(Well, the truth is, Eve was already expecting and Aziraphale knew the wild animals their fellow angels had created Before to surround the Garden and make it as hostile and dangerous as possible, never mind that the Almighty had strangely insisted pregnancy would need to be long and tenuous at a human standard, but the demon was not about to admit all that to the angel next to them.)

A pause.

“I don't believe that,” Janiel states bluntly.

“Believe whatever you want, dear.”

The bellowing scream of a dying lion echoes through the desert followed by exclamations of glee from Eve and a victory cry from Adam.

Aziraphale forgets to refrain from smiling.

“I think you wanted to protect them! So they can defend themselves!” Janiel exclaims then with childish glee. The demon winces.

“Don’t—”

Aziraphale takes a step back when they feel the angel try to get closer in their excitement before sensing droplets of water falling on them. Instinctively, the demon lifts their right wing, sheltering Janiel beneath it.

Aziraphale closes their eyes then, bathing in the silence only interrupted by the gentle plops of the droplets against the gate, against the leaves, against their tired wings. They can picture it so vividly still in their mind, Earth, people, everything they helped create before being cast down before sight was taken from them. They even remember which angel created rain, along with rivers and tears, and they wonder quietly if that angel is still in Heaven or has become a demon and they simply haven’t crossed paths again.

Aziraphale has always had a good memory.

“Astrophel, for all that’s worth, I’m sorry, for what happened.” Guilt radiates from the angel and Aziraphale sniffs. Guilt stinks, they learn now.

“I forgive you.”

The demon doesn't see the way the angel crumbles at the words. They don't see the way the angel tries to catch their eyes, only to notice that the once bright blue eyes they had dismissed before are now just staring ahead, bored, distracted. And they don't see the way Janiel clutches their heart and curses themself for being a coward who stayed quiet after all.

Aziraphale chuckles suddenly. “Just messing with you dear, you've got nothing to be sorry for. You're not the one who cast me down.”

A half-lie. Janiel stood alongside the Archangels and watched, after all.

“It must be some sort of misunderstanding though. You of all angels—”

“I have to stop you right there, dear. Don't get yourself into more trouble because of me. You'll have enough to deal with once they hear of this.”

“But—”

“I'm not worth it, Janiel.”

The conversation ends there just as the rain gives way to the sun. Janiel watches as Aziraphale shakes their head slightly, getting rid of the wetness in their curls.

Then the demon vanishes away as if they were never there.

⋆ ✩₊˚ ʚ♡ɞ ˚₊✩⋆

Outside The Garden. After The Beginning.

Being a demon, as it turns out, is quite different from being an angel, Aziraphale comes to realise. Whereas he used to have very specific instructions on his tasks as an angel, Beelzebub now only tells him to “go cause some mischief on Earth” and then leaves him alone to do so until he is dragged back to report. He’s not sure yet if that is a good thing or not, however.

The lands outside The Garden are bare. He feels the warm sand beneath his feet with a pout, wondering where are the forests and meadows he had worked on, wondering if God had dismissed the concepts after the War. Or perhaps they are places humanity is yet to find and thus he has no reason to seek them out either until then. As he walks, time passes. Towns get built, rivers are born as the land shakes, life rises seemingly out of nowhere and Aziraphale witnesses it all.

After some time simply wandering, a demon comes to Aziraphale’s side.

“Astrophel,” he recognises Hastur’s voice. “Word is that Adam and Eve’s first children are at odds.”

Aziraphale hums, accepting the untold mission — mess with the brothers and further the chaos. Hastur disappears at once and Aziraphale takes his owl form to travel faster through the deserted fields until he finds the village.

And then, he senses quite a generous amount of divine energy surrounding Cain and Abel’s houses. The demon frowns, perching himself on a tree branch. Somehow, he’s able to crunch his beak as the scent of decay hits him.

Abel is killing his cattle?

“Astrophel?” an angelic voice calls and Aziraphale startles when he finds himself held in soft palms. He squawks and immediately flies away to turn back into his human-like form. “It is you, sorry, I wasn’t sure—”

“Janiel,” Aziraphale recognises the guilt stinking the air now with ease. “Refrain from doing that, please.”

He chastises himself in his mind. What kind of demon says please?

“I just never saw you as an owl before! Well, I did, from afar when you— anyway, what are you doing here?”

Again, the angel is awfully… friendly, and talking as if he was delighted to find a demon here.

“I could ask you the same.” Aziraphale fusses over his robe, waiting for the inevitable bolt of smiting that should be heading for him. “I was told the brothers were having… issues. I’m smelling death and decay already and I haven’t done anything yet.”

He doesn’t get an answer for a good while, he can’t even hear the other supernatural being breathe. Aziraphale thinks Janiel simply just left but then a hand grabs his arm and drags him away. He gasps, his first instinct is to struggle and try to get away but then he feels it. Or rather, Her. God’s presence is suddenly descending on Abel’s house. A shudder of fear grips him against his will as he lets Janiel guide him away.

It feels like forever until Janiel finally stops and lets go of him.

“They’re making sacrifices,” the angel says, which doesn’t explain anything at all.

“Sacrifices?” Aziraphale repeats. “To Satan? I would have heard of it.”

He feels the very obvious discomfort from the angel. “No. To God. Cain gives Her his best crops, and Abel gives Her his best sheep. Last week it was the cows I think…”

“... She doesn’t even need to eat, why would they do that?”

He doesn’t see but can guess Janiel is giving him an annoyed glance. “Anyhow, I’ve been trying to stir Abel away from killing his animals and Cain into giving his crops to the rest of the village instead but… they’re both very stubborn and want to earn Her favour again after their parents lost it. And it seems She has noticed them.”

Aziraphale hums. “And where did they hear about making sacrifices being the solution?”

A pause. “I was… I was assuming that was your doing, or at least Hell’s.”

“Afraid not, dear,” Aziraphale says. He will surely take credit when filing the paperwork later, though… it might allow him to be left alone for a while if they think he’s somehow convinced humans that sacrifices could also be made to Heaven.

“But no fear, surely now She will tell them what an absurd act this was—” Janiel cuts himself off and Aziraphale now feels horror clinging to the angel’s skin. “She blessed Abel.”

Huh.

“It seems this has been going on longer than you've been here, then,” Aziraphale points out.

Maybe he won’t take credit then if She approves of it. Wordlessly, Aziraphale takes his owl form once more and flies back towards Abel’s farm, and indeed, while God’s presence is gone, he can feel the remnants of Her blessings through the propriety, and completely lacking on Cain’s ground when he flies over there instead. In fact, upon spying, he hears the man complain about the poverty of the soil not allowing anything to grow at its full potential and blaming it for his brother getting favoured over him.

Jealousy, fury and desperation swirl in Cain’s head, Aziraphale can feel it so strongly he could almost shape it into the air with his hands. It looks like he doesn’t even need to provoke more discord between these brothers, She is doing it perfectly well on Her own.

(It sounds familiar, he thinks.)

Faintly, he hears Janiel talking with Abel and getting thoroughly ignored for all of the angel’s arguments against killing the poor sheep were proven wrong by God’s appearance. Aziraphale observes — manner of speaking — perched on the farm’s roof. He can sense the angel’s growing distress and despite himself, he stays when he could call it a good day of work.

So eventually, as days pass and he feels the frustration and anger rise within Abel, Aziraphale pulls Janiel aside before he can get Abel definitely crossed with him.

“An advice dear, the more you bother the humans about something they shouldn’t do, the more they’ll want to do it,” Aziraphale tells him. “Keep telling the man he can’t keep killing his sheep for God and he’ll slaughter the whole herd in a day to make a point.”

“But that’s stupid, then he won’t have any sheep left!”

“She blessed him. He will probably find new ones wandering into his farm the next morning. The point is— you need a plan. If it’s not working with Abel, perhaps the other brother is worth considering.”

Janiel lights up at the suggestion. “You’re right!” And before Aziraphale can say anything else, the angel rushes towards Cain’s farm instead.

“Just as impatient as I remember,” Aziraphale comments, much too fondly, fortunately, no one hears him.

So he stays. Turned back into his owl, Aziraphale perches himself on Janiel’s shoulder when the angel visits the brothers and tries to enact his divine influence, with minimal success but Aziraphale doesn’t dare point it out with how excited Janiel always seems. The demon is intrigued, to say the least, because as established, God approves of these sacrifices so really, Cain and Abel should be left alone and yet here Janiel is, trying to prevent them. Telling Cain God appreciates his gifts as well but the village would do so even more. Telling Abel that killing his sheep is all well and good, but eventually, he may not have enough livestock for the winter season to come. Sure, it is not explicitly against God’s wishes, but it is… implied. And Janiel is as carefree and confident as ever, so unafraid of the consequences that might fall on him.

If any consequences there even are for him, favoured as he is by the Archangels. Aziraphale does wonder, sometimes. Considering the powerful celestial energy still surrounding the angel, he hasn’t been demoted following Adam and Eve’s escape, or perhaps Janiel… lied to get away with it. But that’s a ludicrous thought, angels don’t lie.

A week passes, and Janiel and Aziraphale sit on the roofs of Abel and Cain’s farms, respectively. Aziraphale dangles his legs in the space separating the two houses and supposes Janiel is doing the same on his side.

Aziraphale tilts his head backwards, listening intensely to Cain’s tired steps as he gathers his crops, his cuts shorter and less precise than usual. He can feel exhaustion and anger still brewing in his heart.

“Do you reckon Abel was also favoured by Adam and Eve?” the demon asks suddenly.

Janiel’s wings bristle. “I hope not. Why?”

“Ah. Just wondering. He seems used to being in his brother’s shadow. Undervalued. Forgotten.”

“You knew Adam and Eve, they’d never neglect their kid,” the angel states confidently.

Aziraphale grimaces. He wishes he did not doubt that.

(The way he started doubting—)

As if summoned by his thoughts, he feels Her presence descending upon Earth once more and Aziraphale promptly transforms into his animalistic form just as Janiel reaches forward and grabs him, hiding him, immaculate white owl feathers blending in perfectly with the angel’s robe.

Then everything happens all at once before Aziraphale can even process the feeling of Janiel’s arms around him and protecting him so fiercely. God blesses Abel once more, dismisses Cain, and then promptly leaves. Cain, still with his scythe in hand, gets blinded by rage and dashes through the short distance separating him from his brother.

Aziraphale is abruptly let go and almost crashes into the ground while Janiel’s voice, suddenly a distant sound, cries out a desperate “No!”. The demon smells it before it happens, the horrid stench of fury and murder and death.

(Aziraphale has a vivid flashback then, of the angel who created Death. They were one of his only friends, back then, in the Human Department. Passionate, bright, and wanted to test out every Concept they created or came across. When Aziraphale shaped Love after meeting a certain Seraphim, that other angel was eager to bathe in it and Aziraphale had indulged them. But then, the angel was asked to come up with a Concept that would allow humans to regulate their population, to counter Breeding. Death, or Azrael as they were named outside of their function, was thus born, the entity needed a test run to make sure it worked as intended and the angel—)

Aziraphale winces as Abel’s pained scream echoes into the air along with the continuous sound of Cain stabbing his gradually weakening body, over and over again.

He should enjoy this, a voice in his head that sounds strangely like Lord Beelzebub’s says, the despair, the betrayal, the chaos. He’s Astrophel, a demon, the demon of Forbidden Knowledge, bearer of bad news and a reminder of the awful nature of reality to send humans into despair and give in to temptation. And he wants to puke.

With effort, and with great reluctance, he stands up and makes his way towards the rapidly potent smell of rotting flesh.

(He needs something that could help him walk around, he thinks, he won’t be able to only rely on his demonic senses if he wants to blend with humans later on.)

As he approaches, he finally picks up Janiel’s frantic whispers and Aziraphale shivers as he senses the power emanating from the angel, desperate. Time stands still, except for him and the angel.

“Janiel,” Aziraphale calls. He hears the faintest of gasp. “He’s already gone. You can’t— you know we can’t. Death won’t be long now, to come collect him.”

“... I could have stopped Cain but my miracles didn’t manage to calm him.”

“When emotions are heightened, humans can be immune to our powers,” Aziraphale says, a bit gloomily. “The Almighty wanted them to have some sort of powers of their own so they're not just glorified puppets.”

Although they kind of are, the voice of Lord Beelzebub buzzes in his mind again.

“Well, it would have been nice to know beforehand,” Janiel scoffs.

“I thought you did.”

It is a decent assumption, Janiel was assigned to Earth for a reason, wasn’t he? Aziraphale was lucky enough to be assigned here full-time instead of Hastur precisely because of his previous involvement in the Human Department as an angel. Janiel oversaw the creation of the galaxies but if he’s monitoring Earth now instead of looking over his precious stars, Aziraphale wonders why when it seems like the humans are all so… surprising and new to him.

“It wasn’t your fault, Janiel,” Aziraphale says gently.

“Then whose is it?!” the angel replies, rightful anger and grief pouring out of his tired lips.

“You don’t want me to answer that.”

They both look up then, towards an endless blue sky. No words are needed.

“I suppose it must be part of some Grand Plan,” the demon muses. He may have lost faith in Her, but he still has the firm belief that She has an ineffable plan no one knows. That all this must mean something, even if that something may just be a game for an entity with such power who happens to be bored.

He misses the way Janiel just frowns, fists clutching the fabric of his robe where dried blood stains the immaculate white.

“I guess so,” the angel answers, hollow, tired. “I wonder…”

“Mm?”

“You… you didn’t… you didn’t influence Cain, right?”

For some reason, Aziraphale feels a part of him break where pride should burst out at the subtle accusation. “You were there at all times, dear, you would have noticed if I did.”

“Right… sorry. You tried to help me I shouldn't have—”

“Don’t apologise, I’m flattered you thought me capable of such deceit,” he lies through his teeth. And with those simple words, he turns around and flies away.

Cain would go on to become the symbol of the birth of evil for humans. Aziraphale makes sure to leave some whispered stories behind about how he was just a man, neither good nor evil, abandoned by God and laughed at by Satan.

(He also gets a commendation for Abel’s murder; although the man is now in Heaven, Cain is secured to be in Hell when his time comes. Aziraphale doesn’t correct Hell but it leaves a sour taste in his mouth. He supposes at least Cain will be reunited with his parents.)

⋆ ✩₊˚ ʚ♡ɞ ˚₊✩⋆

Hell

“Gotta give it to him, I did not expect Astrophel to do so well, especially against a Seraphim,” Beelzebub comments, reading the report once more. Humanity’s first murder, done right under God’s nose as well, and with the owlish demon escaping with no blatant injury.

“What ticks me,” Dagon starts, “is why Heaven even sent a Seraphim on Earth in the first place. Janiel, on top of that. These fuckers think groundwork is beneath an angel of that status.”

“Janiel was never known to know how to keep in place or follow orders,” Hastur chimes in. “It’s a wonder how he didn’t Fall.”

“It is a wonder,” Beelzebub agrees, then stands up, effectively ending the meeting. Dagon and Hastur promptly leave while the Prince of Hell still holds Astrophel’s report in their hands, thinking.

Janiel indeed has never been known to be quite the typical obedient angel, Beelzebub knew him Before, they were close friends, even — but Beelzebub could not stand Metatron who was so often by Janiel’s side so Beelzebub always kept a safe distance anyway — and they were so convinced Janiel would Fall with them and yet. Astrophel, on the other hand… Beelzebub recalls only speaking to him once Before, poor, anxious but eager Cherubim, it seems the Fall has given him a bit of the confidence he was lacking as an angel, but Beelzebub is more than aware that Astrophel stuck out as an anomaly within their ranks during Judgement, even if the demon then insisted on being put on Earth to prove his worth — there is also the fact that his memories from Before seem untouched, as opposed to the other demons who used to work in the Human Department as well so Beelzebub’s and Satan’s choices for Hell’s Earth agent were limited anyway. All that to say, there was no way he and Janiel had known each other, however, their statuses wouldn’t have allowed it.

But then again, Janiel was never one to pay attention to the hierarchy and there are too many anomalies surrounding Astrophel, which the demon doesn’t seem aware of himself. So perhaps…

At last, Beelzebub leaves their office and immediately heads for the Torture Department.

“You,” they call, pointing at a demon near the entrance leisurely playing with moths flying around the small flame in the palm of her hand. She doesn’t startle, just merely lifts her head. “Remind me your name.”

“Mara, My Lord,” she answers. “What is it?”

Beelzebub sets Astrophel’s report down on her desk. Mara tilts her head, squinting at the piece of parchment.

“I have a mission for you,” Beelzebub announces. “I have a suspicion that Astrophel might be a weakness in a certain angel that we can exploit, but I need to be sure of it.”

“So… you want me to spy on them? You can’t do that with your flies?” Mara asks.

“They’re too noisy,” Beelzebub groans. A fault in their designs, they have to admit that. “Astrophel would notice immediately. Your moths, on the other hand…”

The lower-ranked demon hums and grins. “Alright, sounds fun.”

⋆ ✩₊˚ ʚ♡ɞ ˚₊✩⋆

[stemmmm]

bad youtube clickbait thumbnail that reads "I think I just had a therapy session with a DEMON???"

[butchfalin]

the funniest meltdown ive ever had was in college when i got so overstimulated that i could Not speak, including over text. one of my friends was trying to talk me through it but i was solely using emojis because they were easier than trying to come up with words so he started using primarily emojis as well just to make things feel balanced. this was not the Most effective strategy... until. he tried to ask me "you okay?" but the way he chose to do that was by sending "👉🏼👌🏼❓" and i was so shocked by suddenly being asked if i was dtf that i was like WHAT???? WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY TO ME?????????? and thus was verbal again

[nicecrumbart]

Keep thinking about that one scene in secret life

[sorok0put]

thx for the tag!! im so excited lmfao hsahhas soooo long story short I had lots of usernames, but I rarely posted my art online and showed some drawings to my friends only cuz I was afraid of getting into cringe-art-compilations (who remembers dno arti raise ur hand) lmao. So for a long time I didn’t have a permanent online name :0

I think it was 2020 when I bought Titanfall 2 aka the-best-game-ever and I was looking for a memorable in-game-name that would sound cool. A couple of years before all of that my online names were Sova ("owl"), Voron ("raven") and Sokol ("falcon") (yh i luv birds), so I decided to stick with this tradition and named my new account Sorokoput ("Shrike", a bird known for impaling the carcasses of its prey on branches to mark its territory). And since I wanted to be very original and I loved (and still love) 1337-speak, I decided to change some of the "o"'s to be zeros aaand thats it I think. I liked that name so much that I finally decided to settle on it online and I keep using it since :D

And now imma tag some cool fellas cuz now I'm curious abt their names: @loli19yaz @timpetum @destroyer-art @paleparadisenight

also the shrike itself (my beloved)

@arkhaichno tagged me some time ago (thank you^^), why the name of my blog - the reason is fairly simple: I'm a collector and an armchair historian with some background in academia, Space Race is one of my area of interes, especially as represented in art and everyday items^^ I have an old podstakannik and a regenerated Polyot watch that inspired me to pick the name^__^ Contrary to what might seem, I can barely use Cyryllic script, I can only read it in capitals/print, having severe issues with handwritten/lowercase, and rely on every Slavs' superpower, that is between 20-60% understanding of fellow Slavs to communicate verbally to a better or worse effect 🤣

Feel free to join the tagging game, what is the reason/meaning behind/for your blog name, if any (no pressure/ignore)^^ : @toonxar @ayliaan @sorok0put @shnezok @karparik @scarecraux

[hinamie]

subject, specimen, spectacle;

should i say that you're dead?