#I have like. an entire timeline and story attached to this au already I didn’t intend this…

[daikaiju-arts]

“If you don’t want to hang out anymore I’d understand…”

My irl Gangle taking off her ‘Comedy Mask’ for the first time in front of my irl Pomni 😔

[flydotnet]

Excess of Care

WHUMPTOBER 2023, DAY 30: “It’s okay, just to say, ‘I’m not okay’.” Borrowed Clothing | Bridal Carry | “Not much longer…”

I guess writing one (1) interaction between Camilla and Hikaru in the early chapters of "Promotion to Parent" has always made me interested in more Camikaru (let's call it that lol) content for the HSAU. I don't even know why that is, I just felt like they'd be interesting to write interacting; and if this fic being there is proving something, it's that my writer hunch wasn't wrong.

This story is set a year after the main timeline, around the same time in the (school) year Promotion to Parent was set in. Since it serves as a bit of an indirect sequel to it, it does contain implied spoilers for it - so if it's ever interested you, please read that one first! It's not too long and also filled with all of the good stuff (read: family angst and lots of sibling love).

It's another short one that I thought I'd be more inspired by, or that would be angstier, but oh well… Brain is slowly stopping to function properly. It's another one of those I'll probs revisit in the future.

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Excess of Care

Summary: Camilla Nohr has always cared too much for others; but it doesn't have to be a bad thing.

Fandom: Crossover (FE Fates/CT), high school/teacher AU

Word Count: 1K words

AO3 version available here.

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Camilla has lost count of the number of times she’s been told she cared too much about people she didn’t know anything about. She’s been warned not get attached to students no matter what. She’s been blamed for lacking perspective and thinking with her heart rather than her brain. Mind over matters, duty of detachment, all that jazz that has turned into background noise inside her skull.

And yes, maybe Xander is right when he points out to her it will one day make her miserable, the one day she’ll be powerless yet too involved. But what do you want her to become, then? A heartless machine of an employee? Very little for her, thank you.

Today is proving Xander’s concerns for her habit of “over-caring” right once more, she does suppose. She’s meant to just deliver some papers her brother forgot to give to one of his workmates that couldn’t wait: with the upcoming class council season upon the school, teacher comments and grades have become the latest emergency. He’s himself swamped with comments to write for all of his students – who are a lot more than anyone would expect, to be fair – so she volunteered to deliver something he apparently needed to give to someone as soon as possible. Leo was the one to call her out, this time, but she replied to his concern the same way she always does: with a smile and truthful words.

This someone has turned out to be one of the few workmates he has she knows about, from last year’s Xander-related fiasco. Elise most often calls him by an affectionate nickname used by the entire school, it’d seem, while Leo is always a lot more detached when referring to him, and neither case comes to her surprise. What surprises her more was that she’s already met and spoken with him once before, yet when he opens the door, she’s still a bit starstruck. It’s like meeting her sibling’s idol in an intended context.

Perhaps it’d be closer to meeting someone and realizing they need help, however, because this is exactly what she’s doing.

Camilla has no doubt in her mind that, would’ve it been anyone else but her in this situation, they’d have just called someone close to the person they barely know anything about and left when it was clear it’d be taken care of. This is the sort of things Leo and Xander have warned her not to do, because she cares too much, and it’s not good for her.

On the other hand, this poor boy needed a helping hand, and he clearly is home alone: not only have Xander and Leo both mentioned his fiancée was out of the country for the week, but she also knows from second-hand accounts Elise’s favourite teacher is a chronic workaholic with… questionable self-care. Hinoka and Shun have both corroborated that, although considering Shun’s own lack of routine, she can only guess his judgement came from first-hand experience.

And this is how Camilla is finding herself with her brother’s colleague in his arms. From what she can tell through touch and sight, he’s slightly feverish and very much exhausted, but he should be fine with some rest.

The first order of action, when someone passes out in front of you, is to carry them to a bed. Luckily, she’s always had a lot of strength in her arms to carry her siblings and help Xander out, so it’s not an issue for her to carry the fairly lightweight Hikaru (she isn’t sure if she can call him by his given name, but it sounds like a good compromise between the formal “Mr Matsuyama” Leo uses and the much endeared “Matsu” Elise calls him instead) to his bedroom.

It doesn’t seem like he’s been here for long periods of time lately, with half of the twin bed undone yet the other undisturbed. She quickly takes the time to put it back into shape before tugging her patient in, just making sure he isn’t wearing anything too uncomfortable. To his luck, he was already wearing a very casual combination of old t-shirt and sweatpants. (Come to think of it, this doesn’t match the casual yet strait-laced enough looks Leo usually describes his literature teacher wearing).

With that taken care of, she can proceed to the next stop, which awaits her downstairs. With the supplies in the kitchen and the tools at her disposal, she wipes up a quick get-better package: a steaming mug of camomile tea with a generous spoonful of honey, lightly toasted bread straight from the machine and, of course, a good, tall glass of water.

To her surprise, when she comes back into the bedroom, he’s already awake, and quite confused to see her in his house. It’s… a surprisingly realistic outcome of the situation, she must admit.

“Uhm… What’re you doing here?” He asks, voice hoarse and slightly on the morning side of things.

“My apologies, I must’ve scared you,” she replies without advancing. “My brother sent me to deliver you some papers for work, but almost as soon as you opened the door, you lost consciousness. I brought you back to your bed so you could rest properly.”

“Papers for work… Oh, right, Xander.” His shoulders slump. “You’re Camilla Nohr.”

“It’s indeed me,” she answers with a smile. “Can I come closer?”

“O-oh, yeah, don’t even ask.” He scratches the back of his neck. “Sorry for that, by the way.”

“Sorry for what?”

“For passing out on you.” She puts the trail on his lap. “Oh, you’re too kind, damn, thanks.”

“It’s no problem, don’t stress yourself about it.” She remains standing on the side of the bed. “I was just very concerned, truth be told.”

He drinks the glass of water first. As always, her guess was right on the money.

“I get it, that must’ve been a rough way to get greeted at the door.”

“It’s not just that. You’re just as tired as Xander, but unlike him, you’re all alone.”

“I appreciate the concern, but I’m fine.” He clears his throat. “Even though I realize I can’t be very convincing on the matter.”

Her face grows sterner. This is sounding all too familiar to her.

“You’re right, you’re not very convincing.” She uncrosses her arms. “You know… It’s okay just to say you’re not okay. Especially when you’re alone like you are right now.”

“Right,” he replies with a slight smile, as awkward as it is. “You’re right. It’s just, I don’t know who I’d be telling this to.”

“I’m sure you have friends and family willing to listen to it. If you find yourself without someone, then…” She smiles again. “You’ll find my phone number written down on a note on your fridge.”

“That’s a radical way to get me to take care, damn.” He chuckles anyway. “I’m very thankful for that Camilla, I really am. Still, please tell me you’ll go home. I don’t wanna keep you here.”

“As long as you promise to rest, at least until the break comes in.”

“I will. Thanks again.”

“You’re welcome. Although, for now, I think I’ll just take some time to call Xander and tell him I’ve delivered his parcel.”

Hikaru almost jolts in place.

“Shit, the docs, yeah!”

“They’re on the drawer in the hallway.”

“Oh, good. You’re really good at this.”

“Years of experience.”

As she turns on her heel and gets her phone out, Camilla unanimously concludes she can’t care too much about people.

[qu1nntastrophy]

@morsartis

Okay, so the first thing to understand about my fantrolls and my whole fandom situation overall is something that needs some explanation.

I am someone who has a lot of ideas. Which means I am constantly making up new aus or timelines. Because I get attached to everything, I have hoarded these aus and timelines. And then one night while I was trying to explain it all to a friend, imagine me with a red string conspiracy board style deal. Not very organized. And I just zoomed in on the words “branching timelines.”

Branches. What has branches?

Trees.

And I lost my absolute shit as my brain put together the pieces. Realitrees. Each one is a branching group of timelines and aus and if something gets a bit too off of the main tree, it’s like taking a cutting from the original tree and grafting it into a new tree nearby. And I started to basically consider my groves.

For the most part, each and every grove is a separate fandom, because I have been dragging the same character through fandoms since high school. I’m now putting a pause on the realitree topic because I probably could write a dissertation on it if I allow myself. And you didn’t mean to ask about my realitrees. So let me get the trolls lined up for you.

My main set of fantrolls for my fan adventure are referred to as the cast of Realitybreak. Because that is what happened. Choices were made, a lot of them were not the best. I have a spreadsheet that I need to update at some point, it needs reformatting but that isn’t the topic at hand. But the cast of Realitybreak has twelve players for SGRUB. And then there are a few others trolls that are dragged into the game. In the primary setting, no bloodswap, we have this guy, Aervox Kratar. He is the purpleblood of the group. He is a Bard of Heart and due to a botched mind alteration by a young and inexperienced Ceruleanblood, became obsessive over his red quadrent mate, a mutant who at one point did have real feelings for him but her trauma has caused her to have some less than ideal coping methods, but right now is not the time to get into that. Aervox also has a moirail, a very manipulative and ambitious tealblood who is absolutely not healthy for him. It is abusive but he is dependent on these two and they are both using him in different ways. Before his mind had a well meaning hand stuck in it, he and a different troll, Karrai (the beloved favorite, I will not lie, she is the absolute favorite) were sort of feeling the start of what could have become red or pale feelings but that was entirely ruined and now they have a black thing going on but it’s more just violence and aggression they are just aiming somewhere. But they do have moments where they behave amicably due to the fact that Karrai has sort of taken in a young purpleblood that would have been culled (the story there is a huge mess and involves a jadeblood, it is messy and amazing, but I’m not letting myself get sidetracked here with that story) who is now sort of in a shared custody situation because Karrai wants Caspin to grow up connected to his culture because it is so important. Aervox likes the tiny clown boy and is absolutely invested in seeing the kid survive.

This is all without going into the huge disaster of what happened to the ancestors. That is just messy and so many died in horrible ways, and then there is the one who was made immortal as a punishment and everything else that happened there

But yeah. Included are images of Aervox and Caspin. Both are edits I made a few years ago. I need to remake Aervox’s and I am super proud of how Caspin’s looks. I put much less effort into Aervox’s and it shows. I know I didn’t get into how your headcannons really fit super well but that’s because there is a lot on this already and I didn’t want to get too far off the main realitree of realitybreak.

Let me know if you want more realitybreak lore! I have so much. Also, we should be friends. You are so cool.

hi idk if you like to hear other peoples headcanons so if you dont pls ignore but i want to talk to SOMEONE about my silly purpleblood headcanon

-

alright so; face paint. i dont particularly like the "every purpleblood is a clown" thing (but if you do then hell yeah go off love is real) as it kinda limits the character variety of that caste, but i DO like the face paint as a detail so ive settled with this: i headcanon that the face paint purples are prone to wear is not a Clown thing nor a Cult thing, but a cultural thing. all (or most) purplebloods wear a coat of face paint to symbolically conceal themselves. showing your bare face to someone youre not close/in a quadrant with is seen as a taboo in purpleblood cultures. additionally, letting a quadantmate/close friend see ones face is probably the biggest sign of trust a purple can do (depending on how they feel about the tradition). and having them HELP WASH IT OFF??? ough, now thats /tender/.

I need you to understand that I am ABSOLUTELY FERAL over this idea and it goes perfect with an older headcanon thing I did a while back

Here: https://www.tumblr.com/morsartis/639719797773549568/hey-your-writing-was-awesome-ive-just?source=share

AND LISTEN- LISTEN-

NEVER APOLOGIZE FOR SENDING ME YOUR OWN HEADCANONS I LOVE THAT SHIT.

God okay but like, the TENDERNESS??? Of washing off your big purples paint??? The damn SWEETNESS and TRUST of being allowed to help them apply it in the mornings???

NO ONE TOUCH ME IM NOT OKAY

EDIT: YES! Yes I love talking about other peoples headcanons! TALK TO ME ABOUT THE HEAD CANONS-

[anika-ann]

Attached: Word Is that We Might Work It Out

Type: Modern-college-professor AU - part of Attached series 

Pairing: professor!Steve Rogers x reader   Word count: 6850🙈

Summary: You said yes to Professor Rogers – Steve – taking you out for ‘coffee’. Ball’s in your court – and you decide to make your move. 

A date, maybe first of many, maybe not. A date with the gorgeous professor who happened to read your erotica about him. What could possibly go wrong? 

Warnings:  alcohol consumption, professor-student relationship and unspecified age gap, language, lots of fluff

A/N: Timeline-wise, this one-shot fits in after chapter four of Attached!!! At the end, you can find the reason behind me writing this. You can consider it one big flashback, if you will 😅 Gif by capchrisevaans.

Series masterlist | previous in timeline

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

You lasted one day. One full day since the encounter in the office, since Professor Rogers admitted he would like to take you out for coffee or something similar. Since you two exchanged numbers.

It took you twenty-four hours – maybe less – to decide that so what if that might be a bad idea. It was not against the university rules and Professor Steve Rogers was a fucking specimen who also seemed to be a genuinely nice human being and if you allowed yourself to play chicken just because something only might go wrong in the future, you’d be an idiot.

Penny, your roomie, wholeheartedly agreed. She actually punched the air in victory as you were nursing a greasy lunch due to the wild-ish celebration of the end of the semester together the night prior and you just said to the void: “You know what, screw it. I’m gonna go for it.”

You didn’t even have to say what you were talking about – Professor Rogers had been the topic ever since the faithful Monday.

So you texted him that if the offer still stood, you’d like to meet up on Friday evening. Was he free?

Hey, Y/N :) Thank you for reaching out. Friday sounds great. Do you have anything specific in mind?

“Dude. He’s such a cutie. Who even texts like that?” Penny chuckled, a wide grin on her face as you couldn’t but read the text out loud.

“I texted him like that.”

“Touché. Because you want to impress mister ‘hot as fuck intellectual’ there.”

You just rolled your eyes, neither confirming nor denying. Mostly because Penny was right. But he was the first to use an emoji and… yeah, cutie indeed.

Well, I never say no to dinner and I’m down for almost anything-

“I bet you are,” Penny hummed to your ear and you swung after her blindly and thought of a better phrasing.

Well, I never say no to a dinner and I’m not picky. You choose. Seven-ish sounds good?

“Spoilsport.”

“Stop reading over my shoulder!” you chuckled and bit your lip as the answer came almost immediately.

Seven is alright. I’ll think of something to treat a girl right ;)

Your stomach made a small somersault, your face instantly radiating heat at the possible innuendo. The phone vibrated again before you could fully process the image your mind painted of him actually saying it in his gentle timbre.

Just so we’re clear, what is the nature of the dinner? It can be whatever you feel comfortable with.

Your heart leaped into your throat, hammering wildly.

That was the question, wasn’t it? Since you texted him, you made one thing clear with yourself. If you were doing this, it was going to be a date. You wouldn’t be doing things by halves.

Penny next to you made a noise that sounded as something between an aww and her gagging on nothing. “He’s disgustingly considerate for a man his age planning on going out with a girl your age.”

“He’s not that much older,” you protested instantly, frowning. He wasn’t. She knew that; you had both done your research. “And I think it’s amazing.”

You caught Penny’s smile from the corner of your eye as you typed.

“Well, it is kinda sweet. And I know he’s not, I’m messing with you. It’s just-- DON’T SEND HIM THAT!”

“Why?” you questioned, looking at her quizzically and totally clicking on send on purpose at the same time.

I’d be comfortable with a date if you are.

“It’s so lame. Of course he’s comfortable with a date, he suggested it. Duh.”

The reply came way too fast and Penny chuckled behind you as your jaw went slack.

“You know what? Don’t mind me. Good job. Keep it up,” Penny patted your shoulder as you stared at the screen where Professor Steven Grant Rogers just texted you a damn heart.

It’s a date <3

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

It was a date indeed.

Steve texted you an address on Friday morning (along with an adorable good morning :) ), apologizing that he couldn’t pick you up, making sure you’d be alright getting there on your own. You found it absolutely sweet, considerate and smart. You suspected that his ‘inability’ to pick you up had something to do with the fact that you lived at the dorms and if he showed up there, it would be trending in the university chit-chat room within five minutes.

You spent a better part of the Friday afternoon researching the place and the weather forecast so you could dress accordingly and getting ready.

You were not ready for a date with Steve Rogers however; your nerves were a mess and nothing could ever prepare you for when he showed up perfectly on time in front of the restaurant---- wearing a suit no less.

How were you supposed to function when he was wearing such elegant clothing, a suit he filled up so fucking well?! And he looked just as breath-taking as always, stupidly perfect beard and slightly tousled hair you just wanted to run your fingers through and his smile was so gorgeous and--- Jesus Fucking Christ, the suit- how could you even put words together when looking at him-

“Wow, I feel so underdressed now.”

Clearly, you could speak just fine, only you lost your brain-to-mouth filter. Also, your mouth might have started watering and your heart was pounding like crazy. You would not survive tonight.

But, you also had a point. The restaurant was supposed to be a nice place, but relatively plain. And he showed up in amazingly fitting dress pants, white shirt, a tie and a suit jacket. So yes, you did feel underdressed.

“Oh no, no! You’re not,” he rushed to reassure you, eyeing your semi-leisure white dress with burgundy flowers with an attentive gaze that had you shifting your weight nervously. “I’m overdressed if anything. Sticking out like a sore thumb, I’m sorry.”

You could always just strip the suit jacket, was your first thought, but luckily for you, this time you managed to contain the words before they got out to the open.

“You’re fine,” you said instead, not knowing how else to react; needless to say you were grateful for the smile he gave you despite the double meaning.

Yes, he was fine indeed. Always. It was unfair, really.

“Thanks. You too. In fact, you look beautiful.”

Your heart stopped in your chest, your mind suddenly racing a mile per minute.

It was ridiculous. It was just a word. But for one, it was spoken so kindly and genuinely you couldn’t but think he meant it, for two, it was Professor Steve Rogers who told you that and--- beautiful.

You couldn’t remember a guy ever calling you beautiful.

Cute? Sure. Pretty? Maybe. Hot? Might have happened once or twice . But beautiful?

You might actually swoon.

And you were so lost in your head that you couldn’t but silently stare at the lethally handsome man in front of you and then it again registered in your brain that this was your fucking crush speaking to you and he was on a date with you and he had read your erotica, one that was about him no less-

Your face was set aflame in an instant and you… you couldn’t let out a word.

“It everything okay? Did I… did I say something wrong?” Steve asked hesitantly, a concerned wrinkle appearing between his brows and it reminded you of all the times you had seen him wearing such thoughtful expression in the two classes he taught instead of Professor Barnes and-

You were screwed.

Tonight was going to be a disaster.

“No, uhm, no, sorry--- maybe we should go inside or-“ you muttered, lightly gesturing towards the door and could you get any more awkward?

“Yeah, sure, sounds good.”

He let you walk in first like a real gentleman, the lightest skim of his fingers on your lower back, which caused your heartbeat to skyrocket; and only when the hostess seated you, you realized you never accepted his kind compliment.

It was too late for that now, you assumed, so you sipped at the still water which waited at each table, and repeated like a mantra to yourself that you needed to get your shit together otherwise you’d ruin your shot before the night even started.

But clearly, you succeeded at that already.

Whatever awkward aura you had around yourself, it seemed to extend now to him too – he shifted slightly in his seat (he had pulled out your chair for you before, because of course he had), his shoulders stiff. Despite that, he smiled at you over the menu.

“So… all exams worked out? Enjoying the freedom?” he asked casually.

“Oh, yes. Yeah.”

“Congratulations.”

“Thanks,” you uttered with a forced smile, your stomach twisted unpleasantly.  

For some reason, you felt like you were having a lame attempt at small talk with a professor, which you were, but it wasn’t supposed to be like that.

Not tonight. Not on a date.

What were you even doing here? What were you playing at? Professor Steve Rogers was entirely out of your league, gorgeous, funny, kind and smart and here you were, barely making conversation.

It was pathetic really. It was embarrassing for both of you.

“You up to anything fun?” he queried, the question less enthusiastic than the one before. He was already growing tired of making your uncooperative brain work at least a bit, it was obvious.

Your gulped as the memory of last night popped in your head – staying in, quiet evening, in a mood for some dirty writing--- oh bless, another reminder of why this dinner was and should be really weird.

Steve read your smutty story. The one about him.

“Nothing special,” you squealed silently, earning a plain nod. “Eh, we went out with Penny, my roommate and best friend in one person. But mostly I just stayed in and--- caught up on sleeping.”

“I know what that’s like,” Steve hummed, clearly as grateful as you were when the waiter appeared by your table to take your orders.

Silence stretched as the man left, your hand beginning to fiddle with the neatly folded napkin on the table, lump growing in your throat due to your nerves.

“What about you? Anything… fun?” you asked reluctantly, noticing a brief smile passing Steve’s lips. Pretty, sinfully pretty lips. Perfect. Untouchable for mere mortals like you.

“Oh, not much. Few exam sittings, faculty meetings – we had one now, hence the suit-“

“You came here right from school?” you blurted out, startled – and clearly surprising him with your rudeness. “Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. Yes, I did. We have a meeting every last Friday of the month.”

“Oh my god, you must be so tired,” you sympathized with him quietly, the uneasy feeling in your stomach only growing. He came here straight from work and for this? “Why didn’t you say something? We could have postponed or something.”

Steve swiftly shook his head, his warm hand landing on yours, gently stopping your restless fingers. This time, it was butterflies in your stomach erupting with life, the sweet comforting gesture warming your heart. He wanted to be here. He came here for you. He was interested in you.

And the feeling was mutual. So why was it being so weird then?

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m glad you reached out. I’m glad that you said yes in the first place,” he admitted, features softening despite the tension in his shoulders never leaving. His brows furrowed as he slowly withdrew his hand – it must have been an automatic reaction then. “I’m not that tired and… and maybe I was little worried that if I asked for a different date, then…”

He trailed off and your lips parted in surprise, your heart swelling in your chest at what he was implying.

Did he think you’d back out? Did he think that all the potential obstacles intimidated you too much? That you’d think it wasn’t worth it? That it wouldn’t work out anyway?

Seeing as you were now, you couldn’t blame him. Despite him being the world’s most charming man, here you were, being… not at all yourself, stressing for no reason.

It seemed to you that had had chemistry, back there in his office. This date made sense. When you imagined how this could unfold, well, it went a bit differently too. There was considerably less embarrassment going around.

This was why you preferred writing to speaking. That’s why you liked daydreaming. Because reality was often less than ideal, no script, awkward silences, misunderstandings…

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice barely audible as your food arrived.

You both thanked the waiter politely and you hoped that at least now you’d have a good excuse for the lack of normal conversation.

“What are you sorry for?”

You sighed and nibbled on your lower lip, not missing the way his gaze instinctively flickered there, pupils dilating just a fraction – but enough for you to notice. Your heart skipped a pleased beat – but the undeniable physical attraction couldn’t be enough.

“For this,” you said, gesturing vaguely between the two of you. His features twisted in disappointment and something that looked a lot like regret flashed in his eyes. “I want to be here, Steve. I really do. I don’t know what’s wrong with me-“

“There’s absolutely nothing wrong with you,” he was quick to oppose and you couldn’t help it as a wry chuckle escaped you.

“Well, there’s certainly nothing wrong with you. And still, there’s this…”

“…tension?”

You wished.

“Sort of? But not the fun kind, for sure.”

He grimaced, but a spark of amusement lit up his blue irises. “Awkward air around us?”

“Yes!” you exclaimed victoriously as he voiced exactly what you were thinking. Then you quickly lowered your voice, looking around. Luckily, no one stared at you. You realized you leaned closer to him over the table, your heart racing at that, but you didn’t withdraw; it was a lovely opportunity to get even a better look at his perfect face. “But I don’t know why!” You knew why. “I like you, Steve-“

“I like you too. And I know I already said that, but you look stunning.”

Your cheeks burned again, but this time, you managed to stutter out a thank you at least. Stunning, Jesus, was he for real?

“T-thank you. You look incredibly handsome too. Then again you always do—why did I say that.”

One corner of his lips quirked up.

“Why thank you, I’m glad you did. The feeling’s mutual, believe me.”

“Then why does this feel like one of the most awkward dates I’ve ever been to?!” you whisper-yelled, causing him to chuckle, the tips of his ears turning red.

His hand once again landed on yours, this time deliberately, the gesture warming you in more than one way.

“Well… I’m nervous. You might be too.” You hummed in agreement. Was that all it was? “But the way you said it, at least it seems to me that it could have been worse, right? More awkward?”

You felt the corners of your lips rise at the remark, shrugging. He had a point there. And he squeezed your hand a bit and good Lord, it should not be making your heart race so much, but he was touching you and he was being really sweet and his fingers were nice and warm and long-

“Tell me.”

You blinked in surprise, realizing you had been staring at your joined hands. You raised your gaze, finding him watching you with a subtle smile.

“Tell you what?”

“Tell me about the most awkward date you have ever been to,” he clarified, his thumb caressing your wrist.

You only hesitated for a beat before you nodded in agreement, god knew why. Perhaps you did need a reminder that this could have gone much more disastrously and it was mostly your traitorous brain telling you that you were messing everything up.

Plus, Steve deserved whatever he wanted – so far, he was the only reason this date wasn’t as disastrous as it could be.

“Okay. You ever been to a speed dating event, Steve? Because I have.”

“Oh, this is ought to be good,” he noted with another squeeze to your hand, before he released you. Shame. He sipped at his wine and dug into his pasta. “I’m all ears.”

This is ought to be good, Steve said. Well, maybe. You certainly hadn’t thought so at the time.

Explaining to Steve that as you had been under duress from no other than Penny, you both went to the event which promised you meeting ten dashing men in only an hour. You’d get five minutes with each, as anonymous as you’d wished to be, receiving a folder with nothing but a table with the first names of the men and a yes and no option and a line for your own notes about them.

You weren’t sure what to think of it – but after three epically failed Tinder attempts, you agreed to try. If nothing else, you’d gain a new experience.

And an experience had it been. You even lasted a month with one of the guys, but you didn’t tell Steve that. It wasn’t important.

André was.

André Whatever-was-his-last-name – because that was how it worked, no last names – definitely believed he was important. With the guys moving around the tables from one woman to another, spending five minutes with each, you could already hear André closing to your station from two tables over.

He was hard to tune out, courtesy of the colour of his voice, extremely unpleasant to your ears, and him never letting the woman he faced talk. Always interrupting. Always turning the conversation around so it would be about him.

Asshole.

You liked to think you weren’t quick to judge people, but André was making you cringe before you were even introduced. And then you actually were.

A minute into his monologue to you, you felt like you were being tortured.

And then the waitress managed to stumble and spill a glass of white wine – partly over your table, but mostly on the floor. At least she caught the glass and you had but a tiny spot on your dress.

“She was apologizing so profusely and I wasn’t thinking, okay. I went for the napkins few tables over to help and— I didn’t realize I put the open folder down for everyone to see,” you explained, feeling like face-palming when you remembered the night.

Steve watched you in anticipation, a small smirk and a knowing look on his face as he guessed you had already circled ‘no’ for André at the time.

Oh, you wished it were that simple. You felt your cheeks burn hot as you continued.

“André read it, of course. Obviously, he already got a hard ‘no’ from me, but… I might have written a tiny note for myself as to why,” you admitted and Steve’s eyebrow rose minutely, his curiosity piqued even more.

You took a deep breath.

“I wasn’t exactly kind to him. It was something along the lines of self-important asshole who probably compensated for something.” Steve huffed in amusement. But oh, if he only knew... you sighed and continued. “And If Draco Malfoy and Gilderoy Lockhart had a love child, this would be him.”

No sound came from your companion this time and your teeth anxiously sank into our lower lip, your pulse wavering. What was Steve thinking? Did he think you had been rude? Mean even? Nerdy? All of the above?

He stared at you for full three seconds, clearly rendered speechless by your harsh judgement.

And then he burst out laughing.

Suffocating weight fell from your shoulders and you silently joined him as you explained yourself.

“I was in my Harry Potter phase! And in my defence, I think it was actually pretty accurate...”

“Oh, I don’t doubt that, sweetheart,” Steve chuckled lightly before laughing some more, irises twinkling with amusement and something… softer.

You shuddered upon hearing the endearment spill unwittingly from his lips, upon seeing the emotion on his face.  And maybe you were a little proud of yourself for making him laugh and lose the tension in his shoulders completely.

“It was one of the longest and most awkward three minutes of my life, the silence that followed,” you huffed, massaging your forehead. “He did not appreciate the comparison.”

“I bet,” Steve cackled, taking another bite of his meal, smile playing in the corner of his lips as he swallowed and continued. “But you’ve got to give it to him, he knew his Harry Potter characters.”

“Ha! My thoughts exactly. But that’s a little bit of weak base for dating, I think, especially since I kinda already hated him.”

“Oh, you did? I didn’t catch that,” Steve joked lightly, causing you to smile despite the horrid memory.

And funnily enough, telling him and remembering it… it did make you feel better and more at ease with him.

“Ha ha ha, laugh it up, Professor. Your turn.”

“I’m sorry?” he said, clearly puzzled. It didn’t escape your notice as his voice faltered, his Adam’s apple bobbing at the addressing.

Oh, so that’ s still a thing. You couldn’t but smirk a bit at that.

“An awkward date. You have to share now, it’s only fair,” you shrugged, only for a terrible realization to dawn on you. “Please tell me there is at least one awkward date story, Steve. Tell me this isn’t really your worst date ever.”

He shook his head with a soft chuckle.

“Oh, there’s plenty. I’m just trying to think about one that won’t scare you away from me. I’d hate that.”

One corner of his lips raised, he looked you up and down, lingering on your lips for a bit before meeting your gaze, something you could only hope was fondness and wanton in his eyes. Your breath hitched, heat pooling in your abdomen at the thorough onceover despite the gentle tone of his voice.

Fuck how could he make you feel hot and soft at the same time.

Unable to stand the intensity of his stare, you lowered your gaze and gulped, your stomach making an excited slip. He did want you. You had been being silly, letting your nerves get the better of you.

Clearing your throat, you willed yourself to look up, finding him still watching closely – and perhaps, there was a hint of a red to his cheeks, the tip of his ears burning as if despite the blatant flirting, he was unsure of himself too, because he didn’t want to mess up with you either.

You found it absolutely endearing and your heart swelled. The way you got to see there was more to him than his professor side and his dashing looks… you felt incredibly lucky. The more you got to interact with him, the more it wasn’t just your sinful thoughts belonging to him – he was quickly working on stealing your heart as well.

Plucking up your courage, you were the one to reach out this time, carefully sweeping your thumb over the back of his hand, smiling.

“I’m not scared off all that easily, Steve.”

He mirrored your genuine smile, a glint of something you couldn’t read lighting up his eyes.

“That’s good to know,” he said lowly and sighed, narrowing his eyes as if he was assessing you again. “Alright, here goes…”

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

You actually managed to get one more awkward date story from Steve, because frankly, his experiences were hilarious. And surprise surprise, he was a great narrator. Plus, while he talked, you could ogle him shamelessly without fear of looking strange.

But you guessed that since you were on a date, you could ogle him anyway. He didn’t seem to mind; in fact, whenever he got the opportunity, he reciprocated it. It finally did feel like a date, the air growing thicker as you gradually shifted closer and closer, the light touches prolonging, feet meeting under the table without parting as soon as they made contact.

Your belly kept warming up with each smile and laugh, with every second of the intense eye contact, with every flicker of his gaze to your lips and vice versa. Sharing a dessert was a terrible idea, because you wanted kiss the crumbs sticking on his lips away. You teased each other, you complimented each other – with Steve absolutely winning the undeclared contest – and you realized that despite sharing your most embarrassing dates with each other at the beginning, this was the absolute best you had ever been to.

And you didn’t want it to end.

The light sweater you had brought with you did nothing to shield you from the surprisingly lukewarm wind. As you wandered the streets, Steve finally heard out one of your first thoughts you had had when meeting him today – he shrugged off his suit jacket.

Which… yum. The seams of his shirt were crying for help and you could only think fo one way of helping them – taking his shirt off too. But alas, Steve didn’t continue the striptease, probably because you were on the street. Instead, he did the most wholesome thing and held out the jacket for you to slip into.

You only hesitated a moment, teeth sinking into your lower lip. How could you say no to that?

“That’s awfully cliché and really sweet at the same time,” you muttered, causing him to shrug, one corner of his lips raised in a smirk as he helped you put it on, forefinger most definitely deliberately caressing the side of your throat before withdrawing.

A shudder ran down your spine, electrifying feeling going straight to your core. The whiff of whatever cologne he was wearing enveloped you, clouding your senses. Goddammit he smelled so good.

“Maybe I just want to see you in my clothes,” he hummed, the suggestive remark knocking the breath straight out of your lungs.

Stepping to your side from behind your back, you caught a glimpse of his expression – a little bit smug, a little bit panicked as it probably registered with him just how much suggestive it was, perhaps crossing a line.

It was absolutely not crossing the line, because the thought of wearing his clothes, preferably grabbing it because you couldn’t find yours after you threw it all around the room as you frantically stripped each other was making your head spin in the best way.

“Maybe I’d really enjoy wearing your clothes after you rip off mine.”

Steve’s jaw went slack, a choked noise leaving him and you couldn’t but laugh at his dumbstruck expression. Surprise, professor, you little shit. I can keep up.

“That was… mean,” he said, clearing his throat. Your eyebrows rose, pot calling the kettle back style. “But I see how I deserved that.”

“Damn right… but that doesn’t mean it’s a lie,” you shrugged, chuckling at the exasperated look he shot you.

‘Man, she’s gonna fuck you up on a whole new level and I’ll be here for it in the front row with a bowl of popcorn,’ Barnes’ words to Steve which you weren’t meant to hear echoed in your head, making you grin.

The teasing was intense, yet you felt comfortable in it. You blamed Steve and his nature – he already felt like a guy to go lengths to make you feel at ease enough; the way he had kept insisting on you choosing whether this was a date or not only proved it. He made it easy to be yourself, making you feel like you could.

And he made it perfectly clear that he was enjoying seeing you like that, that he appreciated you as you were.

But the closer you got to the campus, the more the reality was settling in, your laughter fading, butterflies and heat replaced by anxiety. He was still a professor. If you went for it, it wouldn’t always be uncomplicated like this. The awkwardness crept in as your steps grew slower, the inevitable arriving.

He couldn’t walk you home, to walk you to the dorm, even if the desire to do so radiated from every fibre of his being. He couldn’t do that for the same reason he hadn’t picked you up.

You came to a stop, feeling like there was this invisible border to a safe, students-free part of the city, the line you couldn’t cross side by side.

“So, uhm… this is it, huh?” Steve hummed, grim. You appreciated the lame attempt at a smile though and reciprocated, turning to face him.

“Looks like it.”

Heavy silence settled over you pair. Your eyes trailed all over him, lingering on his face, noting as he did the same. He was beautiful; you didn’t care you should say that about a man. He was. The light in his eyes dimmed compared to that just a few moments ago, but it was still there, expression soft, almost as soft as his beard looked, causing your fingers to twitch in need to run them over it and pull him in for a kiss.

Your lips tingled as the idea. You had never kissed a man with a beard and you wanted to know how it felt. The fact it was Steve only sealed the deal and made the need grow exponentially.

You wanted to kiss him so bad. But here you stood, unable to move, unable to speak. You sighed.

“Would you-“ “I want to-“

“Sorry,” you and him said at the same time again, laughing it off quietly, your fingers running through your hair.

Your stomach clenched when you noticed his eyes following the movement almost wistfully.

“You go first,” he prompted you gently.

You didn’t argue – if you learned one thing tonight, it was that Steve was a gentleman and that was so rare these days that you wouldn’t want to discourage him from being that way. Even if you really wanted to know what he was about to say, as soon as possible.

“I… I just want to say thank you. For the… for the date. I had a good time, so I hope you had too, at least a little,” you offered lamely, feeling blood rushing to your cheeks.

Like a schoolgirl blushing in front of her professor. Jesus, why were you being like this again.

Steve didn’t seem to find you as awkward as you felt however, your name slipping from his lips, kind and soft.

“I had a very good time. You’re amazing.” Your lips parted at the blatant and genuine compliment. His eyes went wide. “I’m sorry, that came out so strong, I didn’t mean to put you in spot like that-“

Stronger than ‘maybe I just want to see you in my clothes?’ you asked yourself. No, you didn’t think so. It was just that the playfulness had left at least two blocks back.

This felt more serious. More intimate.

“Ditto,” you whispered, gracing him with a shy smile he instantly mirrored. “But hey, I already knew that, so…”

He chuckled, shaking his head lightly, his smile only growing. When he looked at you again, his eyes were the beautiful warm blue that made you weak in the knees.

“Would you like to do something like that again?” he queried lowly.

Yes. YES. YES PLEASE. Minus the awkwardness at the beginning and the one a moment ago, preferably.  

“Yeah. I’d like that,” you agreed simply, taking note of how his face lit up even more.

How could a man be so indescribably hot and yet adorable enough to tug at your heartstrings?

“Good. I’m glad.”

He tugged at your hand unexpectedly, pulling you to your left, his other hand steadying you by gently grasping your forearm.

Before you could question his actions, a pair of men swaying in a drunken haze passed you, having no care in the world for whom they might crash into.

“Thanks,” blurted out lowly, sparing a second to shoot their backs a dirty glare.

But Steve’s hands were still on you, distracting, as you stood face to face, chest to chest, a little too close, a little too far. Your heart sped up in your ribcage, breathing picking up in anticipation. So close…

But all Steve did was to squeeze your forearm reassuringly, lifting your joined hands to his face.

Just like the day you agreed to get coffee with him, he kissed your knuckles, only this time it was much firmer. His smile was sweet and utterly irresistible as he kept looking at your face and you felt all the worries about the future melt away once again.

He was so precious and this felt so right and--- you didn’t want him to kiss your hand.

Well, you wanted it, but you wanted more too.

You had been aching to kiss that mouth since you had first set eyes on him, on that inhumanly gorgeous and hot creature. You were on a date, you both had a great time and clearly he was giving you the opportunity to decide how far you wanted to take this, because as much as every little touch of his made to crazy, the displays of affection were positively chaste.

And you wanted to take it very very far.

Your rational brain wouldn’t let you just hop into sac with him today, but fuck, you could do with a kiss. You wanted to feel that perfectly trimmed beard of his and you wanted to taste him.

Did he?

You stepped even closer as he let go of your hand, distracting you minutely; due to the sudden proximity, it landed on his chest and Jesus fucking Christ he was firm.

Your fingers clutched at the white fabric of his shirt as you observed his face, your gaze inevitably flickering to his lips. Glancing up once more to find him still watching you intently, pupils dilated, your breath caught in your throat, heat stirring in your belly.

Rising to your tiptoes, you gripped the fabric tighter and shortly pressed your lips to his.

It was a funny feeling – lips hot, soft and slightly chapped, a stark contrast to the beard, less rough than you expected, leaving a tingly sensation behind. It was different; exciting and addicting. Before he could react and before you could think twice, you kissed him again, this time lingering for a few seconds, your eyelids falling shut.

Your heart fluttered when you felt his lips reluctantly respond just as you withdrew, his grip on your arm tightening. You ran your tongue over your lips to savour the feeling, mouth instinctively curling up in a smile, gaze meeting his.

Little wrinkles appeared around his eyes as he smiled as well.

“You okay?”

You nodded, almost too eagerly, lowering back to your whole feet. Involuntarily, your gaze flickered to his mouth again, wanting more.

“Uhm… beard,” you piped up unhelpfully, pressing your lips together as soon as the admission left them.

Steve’s smile widened as he once again grasped your hand, leading it to cup his face – not before he dropped a kiss to your palm.

You almost let out a very embarrassing whine at the curious sensation, your mind, still enveloped in Steve’s warmth and cologne, wondering how the beard would feel elsewhere.

Your fingers unwittingly caressed the hair, thumb brushing his lips, unable to resist.

His Adam’s apple bobbed, lips parting, hot breath fanning over your skin as watched you.

“Sweetheart,” he breathed out and that was it – you pressed against the soft swollen flesh at the pet name, causing a low grumble echo in Steve’s chest.

And then his hand slid to your waist, the other sinking into your hair, and he pulled up into a kiss that had nothing to do with how patient he had been before. He was still a gentleman, but it was a close call – he angled your head to his liking, his lips dancing with yours in a sensual dance with just a tease of tongue licking at the seam of your lips, causing you to sigh in bliss, granting him access.

He hummed appreciatively, the sound shaking your bones as he held you flat against him, the heat of his body seeping into yours – as if every nerve ending in your body wasn’t on fire already. He breathed you in, consumed you entirely – there were no other words for it.

There weren’t many words you could think of to begin with, too busy feeling his broad shoulders under your palm, fingers roaming to find the soft hair at his nape, revelling at the taste of him, just a smidge of tongue and you wanted more, your insides twisting in need--- and oh, your back was pressed against a wall now.

You let out a small startled sound which Steve instantly swallowed – but it was a good wake up call for you both. The motions of his lips slowed, softened, a gentle caress more than anything, his thumb stroking your cheek.

Breathless, you chased after his mouth when he retreated, earning one small peck and then another. He rested his forehead against yours, nose briefly skimming yours, causing you to smile and meet his gaze.

“Sorry,” he muttered and you genuinely wanted to slap his arm or something for apologizing for that. Because you knew what you’d be thinking about for the next few hours, days even, hell, probably weeks. “For springing out like that. I just… wanted to do that for a long time.”

The admission had your heart skip a beat and you couldn’t but lean in to kiss the corner of his mouth – and nope, you weren’t over how it felt, his beard against your lips. You wouldn’t be over it for a long time, you suspected.

“Me too.”

“So… we’re doing this again, right?“

You smirked up at him as he reluctantly released you. “You springing out like that or-“

“Don’t test me, babygirl,” he nearly growled, causing your eyes going wide as saucers, feeling as if you were sucker punched to your gut – and liked it.

Babygirl. Jesus, he was going to be the death of you.

“You can spring out like that again too,” you chimed, your voice sounding a bit strangled, because holy shit he just called you that. His gaze flickered all over your face, a shade darker than before. Your underwear was thoroughly ruined with that single look… and the earlier make-out session. “But if we’re talking second dates, I’d definitely do that too.”

He huffed and shook his head, a chuckle escaping him.

“You’re a minx…. I think I like it.”

You grinned at him and then sighed regretfully, reaching to slip off the jacket, which made him frown.

“You could give it back later.”

“Don’t tempt me… don’t want to rob you of it--- and there would be questions,” you explained, knowing that even walking around the campus like what would raise rumours of god knew what.

Like, maybe someone would think some gentleman like Professor Steve Rogers himself lent it to you or something, gee, where would that come from...

Steve nodded in understanding, accepting the jacket and shrugging it on.

“Plus, I’m thoroughly warmed up,” you added cheekily, causing him to chuckle incredulously again. With a sigh, he leaned in, cradling your jaw in one large hand and pressed a sweet lingering kiss to your forehead.

You could melt on spot.

“Goodnight, sweetheart. Let me know when you get home safe?” he asked of you gently, tugging at your heartstrings some more, because of course he did.

“I will. You too?”

His smile was soft and sweet as he promised to do so, clearly touched by your care. Well, that made two of you.

“Goodnight, Steve. Thank you for tonight.”

“Thank you.”

You breathed in deeply, dropping a last kiss to his cheek and quickly spun on your heels to walk away – because if you wavered a second longer, you might have not left at all.

Sure, you looked back at him several times, finding him standing where you had left him, his eyes following your receding figure. But you kept walking.

And once you couldn’t see him anymore, you broke into a fit of giggles, hiding your face in your palms to muffle your delighted squeal.

You were just coming back to the dorms from the date with Steve Rogers.

And despite the hiccups, it was the best damn thing in the world, leaving you giddy and already craving another date and more. Your cheeks hurt from smiling by the time you made it to the dorms, your heart pounding excitedly the whole time.

As promised, you let Steve know you made there safe, earning another text with a heart. It only made you squeal again, fingers frantic as you replied – and with a kiss for goodnight so he knew you truly enjoyed your night, ending included.

What he didn’t know was that maybe, just maybe, the next evening you wrote a tiny story in which you elaborated at what could happen if he ever pushed you against a wall and kissed your breathless ever again.

And hopefully, he would.

Soon.

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

Attached masterlist

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

...how it happened? I was asked about the first date, very kindly and in a no pressure manner.

S: Hey, just out of curiosity, you don’t really have to answer… how do you imagine their first date went?

me: Hm, let me think, I guess, mm, it would be like this--- oh shit. Oh no. It’s gonna be a fic again, isn’t it? Maybe I could finally write a headcanon or a drabble--- sigh.

As if I could ever.

Thank you for reading :-*

[skellebonez]

Hear me out: Spider Macaque in the Spider Monkie AU with prompts 14 and 35?

I hear you and oh this was way too much fun... I took a great deal of liberty with exactly how Mac transforms into his Spider Monkie form and who says what and the TIMELINE because I... re-wrote this into a ship fic because of you. I call it ShadowCodingShipping because someone had to name MacaqueSyntax eventually! I guess you could say this is definitely a what-if story more than anything.

Warning for body horror because Mac is slowly turning half spider and that's kinda gross and painful. Also this is hurt/comfort but heavy on the HURT. This does not have a happy ending.

Am I scaring you?/I believe I can be of some help here.

"Am I scaring you?" Macaque asked with a smirk, pain clearly barely held at bay behind it. The monkey demon was a mess, fur tussled and miscolored splotches that hadn't yet grown in properly littered his torso. His torso that had gained a good inch in the last failed attempt at... what they were trying to accomplish. "... are you going to answer me, scientist?"

Syntax did not answer. Whether it was out of fear or knowing that regardless his answer would not make the demon leave him be even he didn't know.

"Queenie calls you Syntax," Macaque continued, moving around the computer to watch him over the screen. "That can't be your name, can it? I didn't give enough of a shit to ask before now. Hey. Hey. Hey. H-"

"No, it is not my birth name," the scientist snapped eventually, watching as Macaque smirked in victory. "Only a complete fool would agree to work with someone as infamous as the Spider Queen and use their legal name as if they were sending an unencrypted message containing confidential information across basic messaging applications without a VPN. What in the world are you trying to accomplish?"

"Ooooo, wordy," Macaque chuckled out as he leaned against the monitor and made it tilt at an awkward angle. "I'm. Bored. Entertain me, scientist, you're the most interesting person in this place. believe it or not."

Syntax raised a brow at the demon, sighing as he continued to type into the computer. "Do you want this to be finished any time soon? Because the more you bother me the longer it will take. I may be able to multitask but humans have limits."

Macaque scowled for a moment before shrugging, failing at hiding a grimace of pain. It must have made the new bones in his spine ache horribly. But he moved easily past Syntax without a word, only whipping his tail against his shoulder as he left.

It didn't hurt at all... he wondered what the point of the gesture even was.

~

The screaming rang through the entire hideout, Syntax's ears ringing even as he covered them. They'd tried twice more in their attempts at Macaque's twisted idea, Spider Queen slowly seeming to become less and less comfortable with not only their methods but with what they were even doing. It was working, sort of, but not correctly.

The changes were supposed to be immediate, so fast that the pain receptors wouldn't register properly. Not for the comfort of the converted, but so that it would happen so quickly they wouldn't be able to fight it. Less pain, less of a change for your body to try to fight off the transformation. Syntax had insisted on mechanical changes, nano-bots or something of the sort instead of organic growth. Macaque himself had vetoed this, saying something about how it wouldn't make him feel whole again.

This made the changes slow. Too slow, so much so that the mixture was fought off by his immortal monkey biology too quickly for it to take hold the way it was supposed to, requiring Syntax to make it stronger and stronger each time in the hopes it would finally kick in.

Now Macaque laid on the ground, holding his face and screaming so much Syntax feared his vocal cords would give out. The last two treatments had lengthened his torso even more and changed his fur consistency entirely. Once soft and thick black fur was a mixture of that and the coarse purple hair of a spider, not meshing together at all and instead forming an odd pattern on his body. At some points silver had begun to peak through, though if that was supposed to happen or if it was a reaction to the sheer stress of his body undergoing a change that should not be happening he was not sure. Syntax could see the red mark on his face warping, changing into the same purple on his torso around his eyes and moving up on his face as two more eyes grew above the ones he already had. It was fascinating to be sure, and he would have said that it was almost pretty had it not seen the build up of them forming in a fashion he wished to never see in slow build up ever again.

He was a scientist. He was supposed to be impartial to his work above all else, and he had agreed to help of... mostly his own volition. But this... This made him more uncomfortable than he was ready to admit.

"Help him up," Spider Queen said after Macaque collapsed onto the floor, screaming ceased as his body fought off the mixture for the fourth time. She looked... perturbed. Discomforted. "After his last treatment... move on to your idea. We are not doing this again."

She moved out of the room quickly, to fast to even tell her if he would or not, covering the side of her face with her hand to shield her from the sight of the collapse man on the floor. Yes... discomforted indeed.

Syntax didn't have that luxury. And he would not leave Macaque to lay on the floor regardless of orders. But the way he shook and covered his new eyes and the small amount of tears leaking from his normal eyes made a pang of pity shoot through him. He was a scientist... but he was still human.

"I believe I can be of some help here," he said softly, taking off his lab coat and folding it part way before shoving it under Macaque's head and laying the unfolded part over his face. The demon let out a half whimper, clearly bit back as he didn't want to show weakness, but eased ever so slightly as he realized the coat blocked out the light of the lab just as well as his hands had. "It's not a perfect solution, but it gets the job done.

"Th-thought Queenie s-said to help me u-up," Macaque stuttered out, moving his hands to grip the coat instead of his eyes.

"Yes, but that would be a bad idea," Syntax explained, sitting on the floor next to him with a sigh. He pulled his tablet down from a nearby table, there was no point in not getting at least some work done, and began scribbling away with the attached pen. "Your eyes are far too sensitive and with the other changes you have gone through your body will likely collapse again before we could get you to a cot. It's best you remain stationary for the time being until I am able to assess your pain tolerance properly, then I will move you to your quarters."

Macaque didn't say anything, just huffed in reply and seemed to relax. Syntax wondered if he was thankful he wouldn't have to move immediately this time, and he could have sworn he heard something... rumbling.

Maybe it was the machinery behind them.

He felt Macaque's tail hit his side after a while, thumping softly against him... but he didn't push it away.

He wondered if this would change anything at all.

~

Syntax saw more of Macaque than usual after that. Sometimes he would wander into his lab and just... stay there. Silent as the shadows he liked to hide in. Sometimes he would just watch him work, other times he would bring him plums or mangoes. Syntax never had much of a taste for fruit, not really enjoying any form of sweets, but he would not pass up free food when his stomach rumbled in protest from his long hours. One time Macaque had brought in a book, sat on his desk, and just read it.

That was bizarre, even for him. But Syntax found he didn't exactly mind the company. It was quite... lonely in the lab. He was the only human in the Spider Queen's entourage and her other two companions weren't exactly the best company. Oh, the big guy was nice and all and Syntax even enjoyed his presence well enough. But he would grow bored of the scientist's techno babble and science talk eventually and leave with a nod and a wave goodbye. He was grateful that he seemed to listen, however, even if he wasn't interested in the specifics.

The other one, however, was a pain in his ass. Constantly one upping him, trying to belittle him for being a human, just being an all around annoyance. He tried to act cool and suave but Syntax just found him obnoxious.

Macaque... Macaque stayed, listened even if Syntax ran out of things to talk about. And it was oddly nice. He felt himself growing excited for when the part-spider part-monkey would make his presence known.

He wondered, distantly... if Macaque was starting to mean something to him. To matter, in a way.

~

The day of the final treatment eventually arrived and Syntax actually dreaded what might happen. This was their last shot to make this work completely, there was a greater than 0% chance that this would cause irreparable damage to the monkey demon if they had to continue farther. But it seemed his worries were unfounded. He was smart, a genius even. He had done his job properly, even if it had taken far too long and was the least beneficial way to accomplish the goal.

Macaque screamed worse than with every other treatment, and understandably do. It would have shocked him if Macaque hadn't since he was growing two new arms.

The Spider Queen had taken her leave shortly after, disgusted by the sight before her. It was Syntax's job to watch as Macaque slowly changed before him, bones and muscle and sinew growing slowly and bit by until finally... finally it was finished.

They had learned from last time, placing a cot on the ground for him to sit on while this happened, and he collapsed onto his back. Two new arms limp against the floor as he shook and twitched and cried cold tears in agony. But it was finished.

Syntax couldn't stop himself. He rushed forward, kneeling beside Macaque's head, watching his eyes and expression for recognition and any sign that he was alright. It had only been two weeks since the last treatment, the time needed for him to recuperate, but in that short time... he had grown oddly fond of the man on the cot. He did not know what he felt for him, not yet, but he knew that he did not dislike him in the slightest.

"Ma-Macaque?" He asked softly after no response for nearly 15 minutes, waiting and watching and finally Macaque's eyes turned to him. "How do you feel?"

Macaque didn't say anything to him at first. Just blinked before a weak chuckle resounded from his throat.

"Whole."

~

The transformation was a mistake. Syntax had never felt guilt for any of his scientific achievement before, and he did not feel guilt for helping the Spider Queen in her endeavor, bit this? This he felt guilt for.

Macaque was in pain. Constantly. Sometimes it was just a dull ache, other times he almost collapsed as something moved the way it shouldn't and he had to bite back a scream. But there was no taking it back now and Macaque reveled in "feeling whole" again.

Syntax felt a mix of awe and wonder whenever he looked at the demon. He was... handsome, the purples and blacks and silvers of his fur blending together properly now. His eyes brilliant gold and green. And when he wasn't in pain his smile was nice, soft even if he could call it that. He was unsure of how much of it was true, he knew the Six-Eared Macaque to be a trickster. But he hoped some of it was, at least when directed at him.

But when he was in pain his face twisted in a way that made Syntax sick to his stomach to see it each time the agony rang true on his face. But Macaque brushed it off, not seeming to pay it much mind. Not when he had his eyes and arms "back".

The Spider Queen agreed with him, he could tell, but probably not for the same reasons. She seemed frightened of him. Goliath and Huntsman were just scared of him too. They avoided him like he would kill them on sight.

Syntax, despite his guilt, welcomes his presence still. He was not frightened of Macaque in the least. No, he just felt guilt that he was in pain. And he would never not want to help him through that now. The spider monkie had grown attached to him, almost a constant companion at his side. And he had grown fond of him as well.

He learned that Macaque had a flair for the theater. He made shadow puppets when the Spider Queen wasn't watching, though for what purpose and what audience Syntax had not asked. He liked to watch Syntax work, and eventually as he started to rest his head on the human's shoulder he learned the rumbling from the second to last treatment was a purr. He didn't know demons could purr, let alone to speed up recovery from injuries.

But the day of the Lunar New Year was coming and Syntax could tell he had something else... someone else on his mind.

~

The next day was to be the day. Syntax's last chance to get the new formula and tech right. It almost felt like a repeat of the past treatments but with less screaming. He was worried.

Macaque wasn't, however. He had never been worried, assuring the Spider Queen (sometimes through growls and bared teeth) that it would be done in time. He'd been a success after all. (Syntax said nothing each time.)

They'd never been this close before, but Macaque had eventually dragged the scientist away from his computer for rest. Taken him to his room, sat on the bed with him, and just. Held him. Purring loud and deep and eventually Syntax was lulled into slumber sitting up against the soft-coarse fur of Macaque.

He realized that Macaque mattered to him more than he cared to admit.

~

Syntax had failed. His formula and tech hadn't worked. They only had one shot left, and there was no time for him to fix his mistakes before the end of the celebration. Macaque had been in too much pain, on the other side of the room, to tell Spider Queen off this time. It was all over...

Until she came. The young woman in white and blue. She'd done something, added an ingredient he had not been able to calculate for, and then...

"Let's give it a spin," Spider Queen had said with a smirk as she turned toward her human scientist... her human guinea pig.

"Wait, no!" Syntax backed up, knowing that it was almost pointless to attempt escape. There was nowhere to run. "I helped you! You need me! Maca-AGH!"

Before the spider monkie could rush to his side the little spider drone had jumped on Syntax, adhering itself to his face before he fell backward over some machinery. It crawled around him, situating itself on his back and digging in it's injectors and

pain agony pain pain something came out of his back pain another painpainhescreamedandscreamed ANOTHER AGONYISTHISWHATMACAQUEFELTPAIN one more

And then it was over. Syntax felt... nothing. No pain. No agony.

No... guilt.

He stood straight, facing forward before kneeling. He knew what he had to do.

"My queen."

Yes. His queen. The Spider Queen.

She was the only one who mattered to him.

He heard his name spoken from the other side of the room but paid it no mind. That voice didn't matter to him.

That wasn't the voice of his queen.

~

"Syntax?" Macaque called, unable to stand from his spot as his arms throbbed in ghost pain. He had tried to stand before, when the drone had lunged at him, but the pain shot through him for a split second and send him to his knees too quickly.

His screams... his screams made his ears pull back not from the pain of the volume but from fear and something else.

Then Syntax stopped screaming and stood and knelt before the Queen.

"Syntax!"

... he never responded.

Macaque wondered if this is what guilt felt like.

[veliseraptor]

So this is in NO WAY PRESSURING, get to this whenever you're bored and have nothing better to do, but I (have still not watched The Untamed) would love to hear any disorganized rambles around your fic 'Punitive Measures', like your thoughts while writing it, how you view Xue Yang's fight/flight/freeze instinct, and/or where you would take the plot if you ever came back to it (again, not pressuring, I'm not asking for a sequel, I'm asking for director's commentary. Also I know the mysterious flute was implying Wei Wuxian, I know that much and not much more.) It's a really fun, quick fic that I enjoy reading through while I keep circling around your longer, more intimidating stories. I aspire to write like you.

oh boy, well, I don't know that I ever have nothing to do but here I am answering this ask anyway, because I like talking about my fic even if I get self-conscious about it.

this entire fic falls solidly into the genre of fic I write that is legitimately just “I’m gonna fuck up this character I love because it’ll be fun and I love to do that” and then just kinda...went for it. actually harder than I was initially planning! my vague sense of what I was going to do with this fic didn’t have Xue Yang down an eye at the end of it.

but when inspiration strikes, what’s a girl to do, etc.

I actually thought recently about writing a sequel to this fic (or, well, continuing into the AU it started, more like) because the concept of Wei Wuxian and Xue Yang being bloodthirsty vengeance brethren is a very good one for me, personally, and at the point their paths would be intersecting in this AU a more plausible one than it would be at pretty much any other time (I would argue, at least in CQLverse). And that’s where I think this would be going. Because Xue Yang would see Wei Wuxian, in his bloodiest frame of mind, powered up with a gorgeous flute of bad vibes and go “fuck yes” even if he wasn’t in a place where he really needed the help.

The question I had was whether Wei Wuxian would be interested in accepting company, and I feel like Xue Yang on that front could be convincing. And the way that the latter would both enable and egg on all the former’s darkest fantasies and impulses...I’m just saying, Wen Chao and everyone he has ever known is in for a very bad time, possibly even worse than they already were.

I invite you to picture in this AU the part where Jiang Cheng and Lan Wangji find not just darker and edgier Wei Wuxian at the end of their scavenger hunt but darker and edgier Wei Wuxian with a friend. A familiar friend! Now down an eye and practically picking his teeth with Wen Chao’s finger bones. :D

since you asked for disorganized rambling I went back to reread and I’ll give you some director’s commentary on a few things

And he’d kind of hoped Wen Ruohan would be too busy figuring out how to deal with his brewing war to dedicate much attention to looking for one absent retainer. And even if he did, Xue Yang had sort of figured that finding him would fall to Wen Chao, who’d probably struggle to find his own ass with two hands.

kicking off this director’s commentary with Xue Yang’s brutal assessment of the competency of Wen Chao.

tbh one of my favorite things about CQL’s involving Xue Yang in the whole Sunshot storyline, despite the merry hell it plays with timeline stuff later, is how obviously little regard Xue Yang has for the Wens, even when they’re at the height of their power. He shows Wen Ruohan himself very little respect, and I can’t imagine anyone else getting more (except maybe Wen Qing, because Wen Qing is competent and if nothing else Xue Yang can respect competency).

and he just like. ditches them. walks out! promises to deliver very powerful magical artifact, and then gets what he wants and is like “smell ya later, peace” and they never catch him.

that’s just a kind of gutsiness and casual disregard for very powerful people that I really both love and respect about Xue Yang. and also that he has in common with Xiao Xingchen, tbh. and Song Lan (though him I think to a slightly lesser degree, partly because he has a little more tact and sense of societal norms as something relevant to be thinking about)! they can all vibe on that.

They took Jiangzai. Well. One of the Wen disciples took Jiangzai in the stomach and Xue Yang didn’t get it back.

this isn’t an important line or anything. I just like it a lot.

Wen Chao gestured again and he went down in a hail of fists and feet. Xue Yang tucked his chin down to protect his throat, curled his hands into his chest, and drew up his knees to guard his stomach.

He knew how this worked. Sure, it’d been a while since someone had beat him like this, but the lessons stuck. It was almost boring, really. If Wen Chao was going to play torture games then he could at least do Xue Yang the favor of trying to be creative.

He checked out the part of his brain that registered pain as anything other than a thing that was happening and focused instead on opportunities. Weaknesses in his assailants. Escape routes. Getting away would be the first thing. Nice if he could take a piece of Wen Chao with him on the way out - arm, or maybe even a head - but the priority was freedom and survival.

okay, this I feel like cuts into some of what you were talking about regarding Xue Yang’s fight/flight instinct, and also a lot of what if, I was feeling pretentious, I feel like this fic is digging into on a level under “what if I just tortured Xue Yang a whole bunch,” which is something about the relationship Xue Yang has to (a) pain and (b) his own body. Specifically, the relative indifference he has toward both. Or...not indifference, exactly, because it’s not like he’s enjoying himself, it still hurts. It’s just...expected.

unremarkable.

which is a lot of what I was trying to convey with Xue Yang’s narration during the whole torture sequence, with the commentary on methodology and how things are mundane or boring, because the suffering itself is mundane! as far as Xue Yang is concerned that’s exactly what suffering is! other peoples’, for sure, which is part of why it doesn’t matter, but also his own.

the world hurts and that’s just how it is and you learn how to cope with that. pain as...a thing that [is] happening.

I also, since you mentioned the fight/flight instinct, think a lot about how Xue Yang is, while he’s very proud and very stubborn, absolutely not someone to pick fights (in general) that he knows he can’t win. Xue Yang will almost always be on the side of “run and come back another day” over “stand and fight when all is lost.” survival, first and foremost.

which feeds into the weird paradox that I kind of hint toward at the end of this fic about Xue Yang as someone who has a definite death drive, who is profoundly obsessed with his own death in a lot of ways, and simultaneously is attached to staying alive above pretty much all else.

“Snap and snarl all you want,” he said. “You’re not going anywhere. And the only part of you I need intact is your tongue, so you can tell me where you hid the Yin Metal you promised. Everything else is optional.”

A prickle of fear rolled down Xue Yang’s spine and he flicked it away, baring his teeth.

I actually do think that, even before they get around to hand-specific trauma, permanent mutilation is one of those things that still scares Xue Yang. which is a short list! there isn’t much that actually either gets to or scares him, but I think the prospect of (further) mutilation does, because I think Xue Yang is very...acutely aware of the fact that his physical capability is a major factor in what has kept him alive and what, in all likelihood, is going to keep him alive moving forward. anything that threatens that capability, that limits him in terms of strength or mobility or otherwise has a disabling effect, is consequently going to be a short road to death, and Xue Yang would much rather die painfully fighting than die as a consequence of not being able to take care of himself.

for Xue Yang, the idea of a return to the kind of helplessness that is tied to his trauma is one of the worst possible prospects to contemplate. in my head this is exacerbated further by the fact that I figure Xue Yang didn’t get much if any medical care post hand incident, meaning that the recovery period was absolutely nightmarish and a whole stretch of time beyond the event itself where Xue Yang was struggling to survive because he’d been damaged.

in some ways I think that period of time probably did more to shape Xue Yang than the moment itself.

Wen Chao grabbed one of the branding irons from a disciple’s belt and pressed it to his stomach. That hurt. More. He clamped his back teeth together so he didn’t make any sound, absorbed the burn, owned it. His. You only hurt if you were alive. And anything you survived made you stronger.

Not that this was actually going to make him stronger. It was probably just going to make him dead. But then again, the worse this went the more resentment he’d have built up. He could use that. Would.

Dead didn’t have to mean finished.

obviously this is pulled almost direct from what Wei Wuxian himself says to Wen Chao. deliberate echoes based on character parallels! we love those.

and yeah, again here about Xue Yang and his relationship to pain, but in a less mundane way this time where it’s about pain as a tool, pain as something he can use. which is another thing about coping, I think - when pain and suffering are a regular part of your life, one way to deal with that can be to convert it into having some kind of purpose or benefit.

which in this case it definitely can. Xue Yang is definitely someone who, I think, has thought a lot about trying to arrange it so he becomes a ghost after he dies. or at least has thought a lot about what he’d do after dying to the person who killed him. 

and when you’re a necromancer by trade death really isn’t the end of the line anymore, just the start of a something new. Xue Yang’s relationship to life itself: about as jacked up as his relationships in general.

He felt the snap of bone in his teeth. Pain shooting up the side of his hand, all the way to his wrist, and Xue Yang couldn’t keep himself still enough not to try to wrench himself away. He swallowed his scream and turned it into a laugh. It was funny, wasn’t it? Funny, that he was back here, again. It wasn’t as bad, though. He knew how to take pain, how to breathe it in, make it part of himself, later turn it outwards magnified tenfold. They were old friends. Practically lovers. 

two things here:

1. the thread throughout this fic of Xue Yang making things funny so he can deal with them, here brought to you by reliving trauma! because it’s funny! right? laugh about it! just fucking hilarious.

I have a thing about characters basically deciding for themselves to make very unfunny situations funny because it makes them less awful.

2. and look, now he can deal with it better this time! he’s Learned. :) :) :)

Everything splintered. Splintered like bones under a wheel, and first thing he tried to struggle to get away but that just hurt worse and then old old old instincts kicked in and he went still, limp, dead.

“Did he faint?”

Someone nudged him with their foot. One part of him roared to grab that foot and rip it off along with the leg it was attached to. Immediately the same thing that’d made him play dead told him to wait.

at an end point where fighting is impossible and running is also impossible, the only thing left to do is play dead and wait it out. this is very much, in my head, a reversion to a tactic Xue Yang hasn’t used in a very long time and does not want to be using now, because it is absolutely the recourse of the extraordinarily helpless with no way out.

which he has been! and is now, but he really really really doesn’t want to be. Xue Yang has built his life around not being that, ever again.

but here it’s not a move he makes planning to turn it around the way he does, not at first. he gets there, but when he first does it I think it is literally just instinct that goes enough is enough and shuts down.

Wen Chao, Wen Chao, Xue Yang thought. My body’s going to give out before I do.

someone should remind me at some point maybe (or not) to write something coherent about my Xue Yang vs. his own body thoughts. specifically the way that, while Xue Yang is very physical and very grounded, I think he has a somewhat antagonistic relationship with his own body, actually. not completely! he definitely respects what it can do for him! but I think he also treats it a little as a slightly separate entity that’s capable of betraying him rather than as a fully integrated part of himself.

not always! but it’s a little bit there. this idea that sometimes his body, and its capacity to be hurt or damaged, is a weakness that he’d like to be able to forgo entirely, if only it wouldn’t mean losing all the good things about having a body. and that’s present here in this line, for me, where he thinks about himself and his body as slightly separate, and his body as something weaker than its Xue Yang core.

[noaltbruh]

BUCCI GANG AND HOW THEY WOULD PLAY UNDERTALE

Since I got my friend into the UT fandom, and the brainrot for this game is slowly coming back, I've figured that I'd fuse my favourite franchises and make this post, enjoy!

GIORNO:

-This may surprise you, but Giorno would almost do a Blind Pacifist run

-While at first, he was planning on taking out whoever got in his way, he changed his mind in the moment he saw Toriel

-After she taught him how to resolve the various conflicts peacefully, he decided not to fight, but to show MERCY to every monster

-He finds the multiplicity of choices a very interesting mechanism, especially since he's not much of a gamer, and he's pleasantly surprised to see such an innovative game

-While most of the times he would completely avoid the FIGHT button, if a monster got on his nerves a little too much, he may attack it until it doesn't want to fight anymore

-He takes the time to interact with everything and everyone, he wants to enjoy the game at its fullest

-He was so freaking lucky to meet Gaster on his first run

-Actually brought the piece of snowman with him

-He's part of the "Chara defense squad", and finds them strangely...relatable

-He was just about to do a full Pacifist route, but he couldn't bring himself to SPARE Flowey, and killed him

-"I won't let you hurt her"

-Ultimately, he regretted it, and reset his save file

-After doing a TRUE Pacifist, he left the game, leaving the monsters alone and giving them an happy ending

-Only knows about the Genocide through gameplays

-Favourite character: Toriel, but also likes Chara quite a lot

-Favourite OST: Memories, followed by home, Undertale, Megalo strikes back and Star (he doesn't care if they actually don't play in the game)

-What SOUL would he have: DETERMINATION

BRUNO:

-My man wouldn't hurt a fly if he had the chance to, off to the Pacifist route he goes

-Similar to Giorno, he finds Toriel a very comforting character, but he feels bad for pretty much every monster he meets. He thinks it's unfair for them to be forced to stay in the UNDERGROUND, and wants to find a way to destroy the barrier at any cost

-He's never played a videogame before, but he gets the hand of it quite quickly, even though he still ends up dying a couple of times.

-He would also be the kind of player to interact with EVERYTHING, paying close attention to whatever the passing monster has to say

-Sometimes, he likes to take a break, lay down and listen to the OST of the place he's exploring

-The most challenging enemies for him were Undyne and Asgore. It took him a while to realize that the only way to spare her was to run away, and he just really didn't want to hurt Goat papa

-He lets the bird carrying him to the other side, even if he doesn't actually need to move around. He just wants the little guy to feel appreciated

-Veeeery reluctantly, he decided to SPARE Flowey, it would have been a waste to kill somebody now, after everything that he had done so far

-He almost cried at the Pacifist ending

-He refuses to even acknowledge what happened in the Genocide route

-Favourite characters: Toriel and Asgore

-Favourite OST: Fallen down, but he also likes Heartache, Home and Waterfall

-What SOUL would he have: KINDNESS

MISTA:

-Mista's first run would be a Neutral. It's not that he enjoys killing the monsters, he's mostly just too lazy to think of a way to spare them

-If it's obvious, however, he'll just casually show the enemy MERCY, there's no need to take out absolutely everyone

-The only one who he genuinely looked for a way to spare was Papyrus. Honestly, he couldn't bring himself to just hurt him 'cause he had the chance to. Besides...He was afraid of what Sans would have done

-Speaking of him, he finds his jokes HILARIOUS, and he will use them in real life conversations if he gets the chance to

-He basically wasted all his money fighting Undyne

-He didn't buy the spider donut in the RUINS, and was forced to farm gold for 3 entire freaking days and buy one directly from Muffet

-After finishing the neutral route, he decided to go back and try the others. His next route was a Genocide

-He was about to shoot his computer AND himself while fighting Sans, but he eventually managed to beat him. Of course, after swearing at 3 A. M., drinking 10 cans of Sprite, listening to Megalovania on loop and threatening to throw Narancia out of the window because he interrupted him while he was playing

-His favourite moment during the Pacifist was cooking with Undyne

-He immediately questioned his life choices when he finished the route and saw Chara taking over Frisk's body. Closed the game and never opened it again

-Favourite characters: Papyrus, Sans and Undyne. He refuses to choose an absolute favorite

-Favourite OSTs: Megalovania and Song that might play when you fight Sans. He also likes Bonetroulse and Spear of justice

-What SOUL would he have: BRAVERY

NARANCIA:

-Narancia playing this game would be a total mess. Ironic, considering he's the one in the gang that likes video games the most

-Despite Toriel's guidance, at first, he would FIGHT every monster that got in his way, following the simple "It's an rpg, the more I kill, the better it is" logic

-When he saw the "but nobody came" screen, however, he freaked the hell out and immediately reset

-After that mini heart attack, he went on a full Pacifist route. However, sometimes, he would snap and accidentally kill a monster. He lost count of how many times he had to reload the file

-He also really likes Toriel (she's just very popular among the Bucci gang). The reason for it...Is not a very happy one, like in Giorno's case

-He genuinely tried to stay with her, he didn't want to leave Goat mom

-He's the one who gets emotionally invested in the game the most, he even forgets it's a game at times and just erase the surrounding world from his head

-He LOVES to voice the characters while he plays, it makes the story feel way more alive for him. He makes a very good Papyrus impression

-Speaking of which, his favourite parts of the game were the interactions between Sans and Papyrus.

-He lost his s**t when he arrived at the Temmie village. He stayed there FOR HOURS farming money. Heck, he even bought the Temmie armor

-He refused to open the game for two days after Flowey stole the SOULS

-He wanted to ask someone to play the TRUE lab with him, but he refused to admit that he was scared

-While he's not the kind of player who stops by to read every dialogue, he makes an exception for Snowdin. He really likes that area of the game!

-While he would never admit it, he cried three times during the Pacifist route. The first time when he left Toriel, the second when he heard Chara and Asriel's story, and the third when he finished it

-His favourite fight in the game is the one against Asriel. He kept on repeating the "Don't you have anything better to do" dialogue for 20 minutes, before giving up to the idea that there was really no way to save him

-After giving the monster an happy ending, he was overwhelmed by his own curiosity, and decided to try the Genocide route...Boy did it go wrong

-You thought he cried a lot during the Pacifist? He became a freaking fountain during the Genocide. Every single time he killed a Boss, he cried, with no exception

-He spent days trying to defeat Sans, until he was given the option to SPARE him, and so he did

-...The others could hear him yelling from the other floor after what happened next

-He got tired of Sans' bulls**ts, reset and did a Pacifist again

-He watched a gameplay to know what happened in the Genocide ending. Chara's jumpscare still haunts him

-Narancia gets really involved in the stuff made by the fandom, especially fan made songs and comics

-He listens to "To the bone" religiously, it's part of his routine

-He tried and failed to figure out how AUs work

-Favourite character: Papyrus, followed by Toriel and Asriel. He used to like Sans a lot too...But now he gets Vietnam flashbacks every time he thinks about him

-Favourite OSTs: Bonetroulse, Hopes and dreams and Snowdin. He can't choose between them

-What SOUL would he have: INTEGRITY

FUGO:

-Fugo would categorically refuse to reset on his first run. What it's done, it's done, and he has to take responsibilities for his choices

-He would do a Neutral, killing whoever he encounters, but without specifically looking for the monsters just so that he can kill them

-That doesn't mean, however, that he dislikes to play with the timeline. It's quite the opposite, to be honest

-Fugo enjoys messing around with the save files A LITTLE too much, dude basically became an hacker playing this game

-In his attempt to make a Pacifist run, he fu**ed up and accidentally got the Hacker ending

-"...THIS IS NOT WHAT I MEANT WHEN I SAID I WANTED EVERY ENDING"

-He toned it down a little after that, but he still managed to modify the FUN value enough to meet Gaster and his followers

-He's also the only one who unlocked Sans' room. He doesn't trust him, but he finds him an interesting character

-Neither the Pacifist or Genocide endings particularly picked his interest, even though he did punch the walls a couple of times fighting Sans

-He likes to try the different Neutral endings, he doesn't do all of them, just the ones he thinks that would affect the monsters the most

-The only character he got attached to emotionally was Alphys, he can see himself a lot in her

-He's very interested in the various theories that surround this game, and he's waiting for Deltarune to come out, he just wants to know more about Gaster

-Favourite character: Alphys, but Gaster is a close second

-Favourite OST: Darker, darker, yet darker, followed by Here we are, Waterfall and Premonition

What SOUL would he have: faded BRAVERY

ABBACCHIO:

-MERCY? Is that a food? Yeah uhm...No, that doesn't exist with Abbacchio, nothing but Genocide for him

-It's already a surprise someone convinced him to play this game. He'll play in his own way, and that means killing literally everyone, not simply the ones he encounters, but even looking for them just to earn more Exp

-He was...Weirdly satisfied when he saw the "But nobody came" screen, and he was lucky enough to find every monster almost immediately

-He hadn't found a single character that he liked until he reached Undyne. Her sense of justice reminded him of his old self, which wasn't exactly pleasant at first, but at least he felt something

-He was finally happy to see a monster actually trying to stop what he was doing, and killing her was the only thing in the game that made him slightly sad

-He's still offended for not having the chance to kill monster kid, he couldn't stand that child

-He skipped through pretty much every dialogue in the game, not that there are many people to interact with during the Genocide...

-He'd eat a piece of the snowman right in front of him just to spite him, then take the rest and leave

-He didn't care about whatever Flowey was trying to tell him about his past. That's also because without knowing he's Asriel, most of what he says doesn't really make sense

-In the moment Sans dodged his attack, he realized that he had screwed up REALLY bad. After dying against him a couple of times, he considered resetting, but he wouldn't have let "the lazy skelefu**" have it his way

-He let out a huge "YES" and a sigh of relief when he finally managed to hit him, it took him around a week

-However, little did he know, that the worst still had to come. When he noticed that he wasn't the one who had just killed Asgore and Flowey, he freaked out a little, and Chara staring directly at him made him feel a small shiver down his spine

-Still, he decided to decline their offer to destroy everything, not because he regretted what he had done, he just wanted his revenge on the child for scaring him

-He closed the game after the jumpscare, and never questioned what the hell he had been through

-Favourite character: Undyne

-Favourite OSTs: But nobody came and Battle against a true hero, he also likes The fallen child

-What SOUL would he have: very very faded JUSTICE

TRISH:

-Trish got into this game just because of its music, she kept on hearing it everywhere and wanted to understand where it came from

-She was kinda scared at first, videogames aren't exactly her forte, and her encounter with Flowey didn't help

-She slowly got used to the dynamics of the game, even though she died at least three times in every area, exept for the RUINS. (She only got a game over two times there)

-She doesn't have the heart to hurt anybody, she thinks the monsters (well...Most of them, at least) are adorable! Shyren is her favourite minor enemy, and when she saw the "Taking piano lessons again" text, her heart melted a little

-She refused to take off the faded ribbon until she found she tutu, but she never sold either of them

-She loves flirting with literally ANYONE. You can? Well then...You must!

-Her favourite area is Hotland, including the Core too. She loves the whole "artificial" theme of the place, and she had a lot of fun reading Alphys's posts!

-She would pretend to be an actual part of Mettaton's programmes, but only when she was 100% sure nobody could hear her

-Needless to say, the boss fight against him was one of the funniest parts of the story for her

-Another thing she absolutely adored were the dates with Papyrus and Alphys, especially the latter. After everything that had happened, it was a nice opportunity to relax for a bit

-Similar to Narancia, Trish gets really involved emotionally in playing the game, and she had to take a little break from it before facing Asgore

-The ending genuinely made her cry, but it was the only time she shed a tear through it

-She doesn't care about trying the Genocide, she's worked hard to give the monsters an happy ending, and she wasn't going to throw it away

-She's in love with the Undertale Musical by Man on the Internet, she knows pretty much every song by memory

-Favourite character: Mettaton, but she honestly really likes all of them

-Favourite OST: Death by glamour, followed by Metal crusher, Power of NEO, and Another medium

-What SOUL would she have: INTEGRITY

Yes, I know that Narancia's part is longer, but it's just so funny to write about this baby, bear with me please 😌

[chilling-seavey]

When Universes Collide - The AU Mini Series

The Lotus Inn is a place we all know well; and a place where all universes collide in a small ripple of the time space continuum. It’s the spot for characters of alternate universes to meet and interact – even those who are from vastly different worlds and timelines. In this one-shot, the characters from the universes of this blog gather for lunch at the Lotus Inn restaurant and discuss their similarities and differences.

Warning: This does contain spoilers to any and all fics on my blog so read with caution if you haven’t read all of them!

A/N This obviously isn’t part of any timeline and is just something I wrote for fun with a bit of help from T-Anon and @randomlimelightxxx​! To tell each Daniel apart, they will be called by their fic name as their formal title…it might be a bit awkward at first but it would be the only way to not confuse the heck out of you since there are five nearly identical looking Daniel’s sitting around one table. (Also, I see this play out like a stage performance in my head which is weird).

A/N2 Let’s see how many times the word ‘Daniel’ is used in this story

The Lotus Inn – 11:54am

A table for five sat empty in the corner of the restaurant. The room was trimmed in purple neon lights and decorated in floral pictures with an old brick wall supporting the large bar along the back. It wasn’t busy as the crowd usually came in for the daily after-dinner partying and the quietness of the restaurant was only filled with the bar tender wiping down the glasses to stock.

The door to the restaurant opened and a stream of bright light pooled into the room from the outside, nearly brightening the space more than what the large paned windows along the from wall allowed. In stepped a young man, his hesitation obvious as he stepped over the threshold and his blue eyes scanned his surroundings. He wore a military uniform that was ironed to perfection, donned in two well dressed medals on his left breast, and he took off his matching cap when he stepped inside, offering a stiff nod in greeting to the bartender.

Passchendaele Daniel

Age 22

He was the first to arrive and he made his way over to the reserved table in the corner, sitting on the chair closest to the door. Habit. Made for an easy getaway if it was ever needed. He held his hands together on his lap, back straight, and his flat expression starting to fall into space.

The restaurant stayed silent. The bartender kept to himself and the few other patrons sat on the far side of the room, minding their own business.

The door opened again and a voice fell inside along with another pool of light.

“She’s a one-year-old, Jack, give her a cookie and sing her a song and she’ll go right to sleep. Ask the other two for help; they’re great with her. I can’t come back now, my meeting has barely even started. I’ll be an hour, tops. I think you can survive that long.”

The slightly older man who just came in had his cellphone pressed to his ear and closed the door calmly behind him. He looked a bit flustered and definitely tired; his dyed blonde hair was faded to mostly its natural brown tones again and he shoved his car keys in his pocket messily as he listened to whatever his friend was saying through the line.

Anything But Mine Daniel

Age 25

His blue eyes landed on the young man already at the table and he paused in spot for a moment before saying much quieter into his cell phone, “I gotta go. I’ll call you after.”

He hung the phone and headed slowly over to the table, holding out his hand to the man in front of him.

“Hey. Nice to meet you. I’m Daniel.”

Passchendaele Daniel glanced up at him and then to his out stretched hand and pulled a tight smile before taking his handshake, “Myself as well.”

They shared soft smiles as Anything But Mine Daniel sat down in the chair on his other side. They fell into a momentary silence, not quite knowing what to say at first. It was a strange situation to be in: staring at yourself from another universe and entirely different timeline.

Gentle music filled the restaurant and the two young men glanced across the room to the jukebox. A third stood in front of it, having just slid in a quarter to select a record, and the gentle voice of Elvis brought liveliness to the restaurant. He turned with a pleasant smile, his hair slicked back in a soft wave, and startled slightly by the older two staring back at him.

Heartbreak Hotel Daniel

Age 18

He offered them a crooked smile and headed over to join them, “Hi.”

They shared their introductions – being easy since they all shared the same name and nearly the same face – and Heartbreak Hotel Daniel took his spot across from Anything But Mine Daniel. He glanced over at the man in his old military uniform beside the oldest but looked away against before he could be caught staring. He adjusted the collar of his button-up shirt and dropped his shy gaze to the wood table top.

“What desserts do you offer here?”

The three men all looked towards the bar where another was stood on the bottom brass foot rest of the bar counter to stand higher, holding himself up on the marble top as he spoke to the bartender. He wore a Georgian style suit, dressed poshly down to the puffed tie in the collar of his pale blue jacket and shiny black shoes, his soft brown hair brushed pristinely over his forehead.

Amoureux Daniel

Age 17

The bartender eyed the young prince for a moment and then simply gestured to the menu hung on the brick wall behind him.

“I’ll just take the lot of it.”

He slid a few paper bills across the counter before heading over to the reserved table. His smile was wide and infectious and he offered firm handshakes around the table.

“Pleased to meet you. I’m Prince Daniel of York. Second in line to the British throne.”

“Royalty at our table? That’s unbelievable.” ABM Daniel gaped, eyeing the youngest’s clothes as he plopped himself down in the free chair across from Passchendaele Daniel.

“Forget Royalty. I’m going to be a composer.” Amoureux Daniel tisked as he leaned back and loosened his tie around his neck to let himself breathe before rolling up his sleeves too.

“A composer? I’m in music professionally. What do you play? Piano?” ABM Daniel asked.

“Piano and cello. Piano’s my favourite though.” Amoureux Daniel grinned.

“Mine as well.” Passchendaele Daniel smiled shyly.

“You as well? Oh, splendid.” Amoureux Daniel clapped excitedly. “I was worried you lot would be as lame as my older brother honestly.”

Passchendaele Daniel’s smile fell as fast as it was formed and he dropped his head down. The other three easily saw this change and the youngest two from across the table habitually looked the eldest for guidance. ABM Daniel’s eyes were wide with surprise and he set a gentle hand on Passchendaele Daniel’s shoulder.

He spoke softly, “Are you okay?”

“I…” Passchendaele Daniel took a moment to compose himself before looking up into the friendly eyes of his older counterpart, “I lost my brother in the war. He was my best friend.”

“Shit.” Amoureux Daniel breathed from across from him.

Heartbreak Hotel Daniel slowly pressed his hand to his mouth in shock.

ABM Daniel hesitated a moment but gave his shoulder a friendly squeeze, “I’m really sorry.”

Passchendaele Daniel only shrugged lightly, “It is what it is, I suppose.”

“What war were you in? The First World War or the Second?” Heartbreak Hotel Daniel asked as gently as he could around the obviously traumatised man.

Passchendaele Daniel’s eyes went wide in fear suddenly and he looked between the other three guys, “There is a second?!”

“I didn’t even know there was one in the first place.” Amoureux Daniel said in defence as he reached for one of the desserts before the bartender could even set the plate down at their table.

ABM Daniel and HH Daniel exchanged wide eyed glances before looking back at the frightened soldier. ABM Daniel rubbed his hand over his back soothingly, offering the best reassurance he could, “Not in your time, don’t worry. But I think we need a new topic to talk about now.”

“Please.” Passchendaele Daniel mumbled thankfully.

“Isn’t there supposed to be a fifth one of us here too?” HH Daniel asked.

“I thought so too.” ABM Daniel pulled out his cell phone to check the time.

“What is that?” the other three young men asked him at the same time.

ABM Daniel glanced up at them and looked between their mirrored confused expressions like he was sitting at a table with triplets. Different brunette hair styles and different clothing but all with the same light blue eyes and youthful faces. He looked back down at his iPhone and held it up slightly, “This?”

They all nodded.

“It’s my cell phone.”

“It’s a telephone? Where’s the chord?” HH Daniel asked, leaning over the table to lift it up as if to look for the chord that should have somehow attached him to the wall.

“Where is the handset?” Passchendaele Daniel added. “If there is no handset, how do you hear your friends?”

“I have no bloody clue what the hell any of you are talking about.” Amoureux Daniel laughed through a mouthful of cake.

ABM Daniel smiled and looked between the other three, “I guess that’s right since you are all from the past, huh? Well in my time they make telephones that can go in your pocket. They don’t need chords.”

“That’s brilliant.” Passchendaele Daniel breathed. “And you can talk to your friends into that little box?”

“Yeah. Wanna hold it?” ABM Daniel offered.

HH Daniel leaned over the table to get a look as Passchendaele Daniel carefully took the iPhone from ABM Daniel and cradled it in his two hands like it would break if the wind blew too hard. The screen lit up as a text message came through and Passchendaele Daniel gasped in surprise, staring down at the lit-up screen and the little box that read words.

ABM Daniel reached over to swipe away the notification, revealing his lockscreen wallpaper: a photograph of his family from the day his youngest was born, all cuddled up together on the couch.

“Is that your family?” HH Daniel asked, still leaning over the table.

“Yeah. It is.” ABM Daniel smiled widely, taking his phone to set it on the table for all of them to see, “That’s my wife, Florence, and our girls; Clementine, Penelope, and Lucy.”

“That’s so sweet.” Amoureux Daniel said, “I just had a son a few months back.”

“You have a child?” HH Daniel gaped over at him. “How old are you?”

“Seventeen.”

“You have a kid at seventeen?”

“Yes. Ran off and got married young. He’s just born so no need to have a fit.” Amoureux Daniel snickered teasingly. He picked up the plate of desserts and held it out to him. HH Daniel stared down at the desserts for a beat but then shook his head politely.

“My wife is expecting our first child.” Passchendaele Daniel spoke gently.

“Oh, congratulations!” ABM Daniel said, helping himself to a dessert from the spread.

“Yes, thank you.” Passchendaele Daniel mumbled. “I am a bit frightened; I must admit.”

“Parenthood is a scary thing but it’s also the most amazing thing you could ever experience.” ABM Daniel assured him as he slid his phone back into his pocket. “I am sure you will be a great dad.”

Before anyone else could speak, loud muffled music could be heard from outside the restaurant and they all turned to looked out the large front windows; watching as a shiny white Tesla pulled up to the curb. The music cut off as the drivers side door opened and their fifth guest stepped out. His hair was dyed blonde and hair sprayed to messy perfection and the sunglasses perched on his nose were designer, his whole outfit dripping in expensive pieces, down to his leather pants and black boots and silver chain hung around his neck.

He came inside the restaurant and everyone’s eyes were on him – even the bar tender – as he slid off his sunglasses and offered a cool smile to the room.

Qui Totum Vult Totum Perdit Daniel

Age 23

He caught the glance of the other four young men at the table in the corner and he sauntered over to greet them. He offered a handshake to all of them before sitting at the far head of the table, “Sorry I’m so late. Promo ran later than expected.”

He glanced around the table at the four pairs of wide blue eyes staring back at him. There was a beat of silence.

“Wow, this is sick. It’s like I’m looking in four mirrors.” QTVTP Daniel chuckled. He set his sunglasses on the table. The other four pairs of eyes followed the action but they didn’t speak. “You’re right. Need to at least make up for my lateness. Hey, bartender?”

The man looked over to the table as QTVTP Daniel raised his hand up to get his attention, “Pitcher of water, round of beers, and let’s get some appetizers? Give us your top…six sellers. All on my card.”

“You don’t have to pay for all of us.” ABM Daniel said.

“Let me. It’s the least I could do. You come all the way out here to this shabby hotel and I’m thirty minutes late.”

The bartender brought over the pitcher of water, five glasses, and five bottles of beer, setting them all on the table. QTVTP Daniel took out his OffWhite wallet and pulled out his credit card, passing it over to the man with a smooth thanks.

“Let’s drink, boys.” he smiled, rubbing his hands together before reaching for one of the bottles.

“I’m not of age.” HH Daniel mumbled.

“Neither am I.” Amoureux Daniel added.

“I don’t drink anymore.” Passchendaele Daniel said.

“I have to pick up my daughters after this so no alcohol for me either, thanks.” ABM Daniel finished.

QTVTP Daniel looked between the four sitting around him, “Wow. Alright. More for me then.”

ABM Daniel took the initiative to pour the others their glasses of water as he offered a casual question to the late arrival, “What promo were you at?”

“For my record company.”

All four heads snapped back up to look at him.

“You work at a record company?” HH Daniel gaped.

“Own it. Yeah.” QTVTP Daniel chuckled. “My best friend and I have owned our own company for the last…two or so years? We’ve travelled the world together. Made some music. Made a name for ourselves. It’s amazing.”

“Wow. It’s always been my dream to be a signed artist but my parents convinced me to go to university instead.” ABM Daniel said.

“It’s pretty sick.” QTVTP Daniel smirked. “You meet a lot of cool people.”

“Are you well known?” Amoureux Daniel asked. “Do you work with people such as Bach? Or Mozart?”

“Bach or Mozart? Nah. Not yet at least. But we just signed a band that dropped their second album and it went number one worldwide.”

“Good God.” HH Daniel gasped. “You’re like Elvis.”

“I guess.” QTVTP Daniel laughed lightly, taking a sip of his drink as he leaned back in his chair.

“Do you produce too?” ABM Daniel asked.

“Yeah. We do most of the producing but we write and manage too. I have an eye for the industry.”

“That’s so cool. I’m working at a production studio myself. I’d love to run some demos by you…get your professional opinion…bounce some ideas around.”

“Yeah, for sure, bro! That’d be awesome. We can do that later.”

The other three young men stayed in momentary silence, sipping their water with Amoureux Daniel nursing the plate of desserts. He glanced over at HH Daniel on his right, staring at him for a moment, especially the remanence of a bruise that was colouring just under his left eye.

“Did you get in a fight?” Amoureux Daniel asked bluntly.

HH Daniel looked over at him, watching the youngest bite into a truffle, “Yeah. Corbyn beat me up.”

That caught the table’s attention and they all looked at him in surprise.

“Corbyn hit you?” ABM Daniel gaped.

“Mhm.” HH Daniel nodded shyly. “I was trying to stick up for my soulmate and he didn’t like that I was trying to take her from him so he beat me up.”

He stood up and lifted up the bottom of his shirt to show off the fading bruise over his stomach as well. The men groaned pitifully at how obviously it must have hurt.

“My Corbyn is so nice.” Passchendaele Daniel frowned.

“Mine too.” ABM Daniel added.

“Mine’s kind of lame. Everyone in my life is lame.” Amoureux Daniel tisked.

“What? You think you’re better than everyone?” QTVTP Daniel chuckled, taking a sip from his glass bottle.

“Not necessarily. I just don’t want to have to live the same boring life that they think I need to.”

“I’ll drink to that.” QTVTP Daniel agreed.

“Here, here.” Passchendaele Daniel raised his water cup and they all held out their glasses into the middle of the table to cheers through soft laughter.

Their conversation paused a moment as they drank. HH Daniel shifted in his seat slightly, tossing back the rest of his glass of water is he had been deprived for days and set the empty glass back on the table with a loud clunk. QTVTP Daniel slid over a bottle of beer and none of them spoke as they watched him unscrew the cap and take a long sip. The eighteen-year-old grimaced through the drink and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“You’re really going through it, bro.” QTVTP Daniel stated.

“Yeah, I suppose.” HH Daniel grumbled, pushing a hand through his hair.

“Well obviously since he got punched in the face.” Amoureux Daniel added.

“I just…” HH Daniel sighed, staring at the table top, “We have soulmates in my universe and even though I found mine…she doesn’t want me so I’m suck tasting everything she tastes and it being a constant brutal reminder of her.”

“Why doesn’t she want you?” ABM Daniel frowned.

“I’m a loser? Hell if I know.” HH Daniel scoffed, he took another long sip of the beer no matter how disgusting he thought it tasted. At least it overpowered the taste of tea that was grazing his tongue.

“There’s a girl you’re in love with who has a trashy boyfriend? Well, take it from me who has literally been in your shoes,” ABM Daniel reached across the table to grab the beer from the eighteen-year-old, “You get nowhere from drinking away the pain or hating yourself.”

“You had this happen too?” HH Daniel asked softly, hopefully.

“Yeah; was best friends with this girl I was hopelessly in love with and I had to see her go from boyfriend to boyfriend no matter how often I was there for her.”

“So what happened?”

“She became my wife eventually.” ABM Daniel smiled softly, “Just give it time. Don’t push her because she’ll just feel suffocated. Let her come to you. She’ll see what she’s missing.”

Amoureux Daniel held out the half empty plate of desserts to HH Daniel and he finally took a small pastry as the youngest said, “In addition, you are in a universe where you can taste what she tastes and, from my experience, the way to a woman’s heart – and up her skirt – is through her stomach.”

Passchendaele Daniel choked on his water while laughter rose over the rest of the table.

“What do you know about ‘going up skirts’? You’re, like, barely fifteen.” QTVTP Daniel scoffed through his disbelieving laughter.

“I am seventeen, thank you very much, and I have a baby.” Amoureux Daniel corrected, nearly boastfully. “I know just plenty about going up skirts.”

Of course, that was right when the bartender came over with their food and his confused expression had the five young men smothering back their nervous laughter. ABM Daniel and Passchendaele Daniel cleared a space on the table for the food to be set down and all five of them thanked the man before he headed back behind the bar. With a full spread in front of them, they all dug in and piled up a small plate each to start to eat. It was quiet for a moment as they got settled and started to eat, passing the salt and pepper and various plates to each other when asked. It was comfortable.

“So,” ABM Daniel broke their silence first, directing his question to Amoureux Daniel, “how did you and your wife meet?”

Amoureux Daniel cracked a cheeky smile, “Well, she came to England to marry my older brother, but she liked me better, to be blunt. We would sneak around the castle and a few times at night…you know…”

There were two ‘oo’s from ABM Daniel and QTVTP Daniel, while Passchendaele Daniel looked between them all with wide eyes.

“You…You were involved with her before you were married?” he stammered.

“While she was engaged to my brother too.” Amoureux Daniel hid his smirk behind a bite of a mozzarella stick. “My most thrilling and incredible few months, I must say.”

“Oh my gosh.” Passchendaele Daniel’s cheeks flushed a slight pink and he tugged at the collar of his uniform. “That’s…ahem…”

“Did you not go near your wife before your wedding night?” Amoureux Daniel asked bluntly.

��Let’s not go nosing into everyone’s private business.” ABM Daniel said strongly.

“Wait, I’m still confused. Where did you sneak off to?” HH Daniel asked shyly.

The table chuckled lightly – even Passchendaele Daniel cracked a nervous smile – and HH Daniel looked between all of them, waiting for an answer.

“To bed.” Amoureux Daniel laughed, patting him on the shoulder. “You’ll understand one day.”

“I…you…I-I understand perfectly well.” HH Daniel blushed furiously, turning quickly down to his plate and shoveled a nacho in his mouth to avoid continuing the conversation.

“To answer your question,” Passchendaele Daniel continued, trying to keep himself a bit brave and a bit interesting to the four other men, “No, I did not go to bed with Elizabeth until our wedding night. It did not feel right to deflower her until our union was official.”

“Deflower her.” QTVTP Daniel repeated slowly, biting back his smile as he took a sip of his beer.

“Well that’s what it is, is it not?” Passchendaele Daniel said sternly, narrowing his eyes at him. “I like to think that making love is the most sacred act and shouldn’t be just thrown around to anyone.”

“I agree.” HH Daniel mumbled, earning a thankful smile from the soldier.

“Jeez, then I’m quite the sinner.” QTVTP Daniel chuckled to himself. “I slept with my girlfriend on our first date.”

Passchendaele Daniel huffed softly and turned down to his plate. Amoureux Daniel and HH Daniel glanced at each other through the awkward tension that seemed to settle.

ABM Daniel cleared his throat, “Let’s maybe change the topic. This isn’t really lunch appropriate.”

“Wow…you are such a dad.” QTVTP Daniel snorted, shaking his head in near disbelief.

“What’s wrong with that?” ABM Daniel frowned at him. He couldn’t get much of an argument out before his phone was ringing in his pocket and he pulled it out, sighing when he read the caller ID, “Sorry, I gotta take this.”

The other four watched him get up from the table and head across the restaurant as he answered the call,

“What is it now, Jack?”

The table fell into a momentary silence.

Passchendaele Daniel broke it first with a mumble of, “Jack in my universe is dead.”

The other three looked between themselves nervously. They didn’t answer, ducking their heads down to their plates to focus on eating their lunches. No one spoke until ABM Daniel returned and he sat back down with a heavy exhale.

“Sorry, being a dad is a job that is never done. What did I miss?”

Amoureux Daniel, HH Daniel, and QTVTP Daniel just looked at him and shook their heads ever so slightly. Passchendaele Daniel sniffled, keeping his head down, and took a sip of his water.

“Everything alright back home?” HH Daniel asked softly over to ABM Daniel.

“Oh, yeah. My youngest just hates when I’m not within arm’s reach so she’s been giving Jack some trouble. She’s only one so…doesn’t know much better.” ABM Daniel smiled at only the mention of his daughters. “I have pictures…if you want to see.”

“Of course.” HH Daniel beamed.

ABM Daniel took out his phone again and opened up his photos app to swipe through a few and he passed the phone across the table. Amoureux Daniel and HH Daniel shifted closer together to see and QTVTP Daniel leaned over the side of the table to look at the pictures too. QTVTP Daniel took control of the swiping since he was the only one who knew how cell phones worked and they all smiled at the pictures on the screen, ‘awe’ing at the cutest ones.

“The baby looks just like you.” HH Daniel said. “Well…like us, I suppose.”

“Yeah.” ABM Daniel chuckled. “I get that a lot.”

Passchendaele Daniel stayed quiet on his right, eating in silence, and unbothered. He sat as if he didn’t want to draw any more attention to himself. ABM Daniel looked over at him as the other three kept scrolling through his pictures and he reached a hand onto the table to gently get his attention. Passchendaele Daniel looked up at him with a flat expression and almost tearful eyes.

“Are you alright?” ABM Daniel asked softly.

“I don’t do well without my Elizabeth.” Passchendaele Daniel whispered for only him to hear. ABM Daniel was always the best listener and the easiest to talk to and it was obvious to the struggling soldier that he was someone he could trust.

“Do you have a picture of her?” ABM Daniel offered, as some way to keep his mind busy but happy.

A small smile perked at the side of Passchendaele Daniel’s lips and he nodded, reaching into his uniform jacket and he pulled out a small sepia photograph and held it out to his new acquaintance. ABM Daniel smiled thankfully at him and took the photograph, looking down at the old fashion photograph of the gentle young blonde woman.

“She’s beautiful.” ABM Daniel said politely.

“She is. I’m the luckiest man in the whole world to have her. She saves my life every day.” Passchendaele Daniel breathed, his gentle smile grazing his lips ever so delicately as if he was in deep thought.

Three teasing exclaims from across the table caught their attention and ABM Daniel quickly reached over to snatch his phone back. The picture they had swiped to was of Florence in nothing but a small towel blow-drying her hair in the bathroom mirror; a simple moment that ABM Daniel couldn’t help but capture with her in all her natural beauty.

“No more of that.” he blushed furiously as he pocketed his phone again.

Passchendaele Daniel offered his photograph of Elizabeth to the table and the three young men on the other side gladly took it. She was effortlessly beautiful and the three youngest at the table stared at her for a bit longer than was honestly necessary. Passchendaele Daniel bit back a proud grin at their obvious interest.

“I don’t have a photograph of Loretta.” HH Daniel mumbled. “If I did, that would be considered extremely creepy on my part.”

The photograph was passed back to Passchendaele Daniel who pocketed it again and HH Daniel reached to grab another serving from the platters in the middle of the table. A small corner of paper poking out under the dish caught his attention and he wiped his hand on his jeans before pulling it out from under the plate. His eyes went wide at the photograph of Loretta that stared back at him from his hand.

“What’s that?” Amoureux Daniel asked, leaning over his shoulder to take a look.

Surprised, HH Daniel couldn’t find his words for a moment, “I-It’s Loretta.”

The Lotus Inn works in almost magical ways through this ripple in the time space continuum. HH Daniel pulled the picture closer, his heart only aching slightly at simply the sight of her.

“She is hot.” QTVTP Daniel broke the momentary silence.

The four other Daniel’s glared at his bluntness and he put his hands up in defence as he sat back in his chair.

“You can’t have her so don’t even try.” HH Daniel scolded softly before turning back to the photograph. 

“I don’t want her. I have my own girlfriend.”

HH Daniel glared warningly at him as he passed the photograph across the table to ABM Daniel and Passchendaele Daniel to take a look at too.

Amoureux Daniel shifted in his chair and reached into his pocket, sure enough to pull out his own picture of Louisa and their brand-new baby son. He stayed perfectly quiet for a moment as he stared at the image himself, disbelieving.

“Oh wow.” he breathed. “It looks so real.”

HH Daniel looked over his shoulder and smiled at the sweet photograph of the young mother holding her baby, “That’s adorable.”

Amoureux Daniel smiled over at him, “That’s my Louisa. And our little prince.”

“Let’s see!” ABM Daniel excitedly held his hand out to take a look at the photograph.

QTVTP Daniel and Passchendaele Daniel glanced over his shoulder with mirrored smiles.

“Damn,” QTVTP Daniel said as he sat down again, “Glad to know we have taste.”

Their pictures were passed around and stories were shared – QTVTP Daniel offering up his phone to show off pictures of his girlfriend and he shared his excited plans to propose to her. 

The five young men seemed to find their comfort with each other. Laughter soon filled their table between words of advice and guidance and comfort and soon the food was gone and the drinks were finished and they were all resting back in their chairs through their conversation.

“Is your hair naturally that colour?” Amoureux Daniel asked QTVTP Daniel.

QTVTP Daniel habitually ran his hand through it, fluffing it up a little at the sides, “No, it’s dyed. I kinda like it like this though so I might keep it.”

“It looks cool. Maybe I should go blonde too. Loretta seems to like blondes better anyway.” HH Daniel said.

“No!” The other three at the table said quickly.

HH Daniel looked between all of them in confusion, “Why not?”

“Florence cried her eyes out when I went blonde.” ABM Daniel said. “I swear she was ready to divorce me. It’s not worth it.”

“You look just fine the way you are.” Passchendaele Daniel agreed. “Don’t change just because her boyfriend looks a certain way.”

“Yeah. You’ll regret that.” ABM Daniel nodded.

“I dunno. I don’t regret it.” QTVTP Daniel said coolly.

“You’re not helping.” ABM Daniel snapped lightly, making the rest of the table laugh.

A momentary silence fell over the group, all of them staring into space with content smiles and full stomachs, most topics of conversation well used. The bartender came over to clear the empty plates and they all thanked him once more. ABM Daniel took out his phone to check the time again.

“Well, it’s been over an hour. Maybe we should say our goodbyes. I have little ones to pick up.”

“Yeah.” HH Daniel sighed, setting his napkin back on the tabletop. “I have to pack for college.”

“I have a meeting...” QTVTP checked his watch, “5 minutes ago. Shit. Jonah’s gonna kill me.”

He got up quickly from the table and put his sunglasses back on before taking one last sip of his beer. They all stood up after him and started to gather their things to go.

“Can we take a selfie before we leave?” ABM Daniel offered.

“A what?” HH Daniel laughed.

“A selfie.” Amoureux Daniel breathed. “That’s a ridiculous word.”

“A picture of yourself.” QTVTP Daniel explained.

“Yeah! Come over here.” ABM Daniel took out his phone again and opened up the camera.

“You can take photographs on your telephone? Incredible…” Passcehndaele Daniel breathed as the group gathered behind ABM Daniel and they all leaned in close.

The picture was taken, framing five exact smiles, five exact pairs of light blue eyes, and yet five slightly different hair styles and fashion choices. All their own individual but yet all one in the same.

They shared handshakes that turned into friendly embraces with pats on the back, well wishes, and final goodbyes as they headed their own ways home to once again be seperated by the division of space and time between alternate universes.

ABM Daniel lingered back in the restaurant for a moment, grazing his finger over the table he stood beside with a calm smile. He approached the bartender and ordered a plate of desserts to go – he didn’t get much since Amoureux Daniel seemed to hog them all for himself – and he wanted to bring home his girls a treat. He paid for the cakes and thanked the bar tender before heading out of the restaurant and into the bright sunlit street. His car was parked farther down and he waited in the drivers seat for Florence.

She came quickly out of the Lotus Inn as well, the heavy wind blowing urging her to hold her jacket closed as she rushed down the sidewalk, her dark blonde hair billowing around her head messily and she helped herself into the passenger seat of their car. With the door closed and the wind kept out, she sighed deeply with a content smile and smoothed her messy hair down.

“Hey, baby.”

“Hi, sweetheart.”

They both leaned in for a quick kiss.

“How was lunch?” she asked.

ABM Daniel thought for a moment as he took the car out of park and pulled out onto the street, “It was strange at first but really nice. How was yours?”

“Super fun.” Florence giggled.

“Great! Oh! We took a selfie. I wanted to show you how similar we all looked.” Daniel pulled his phone from his pocket and blindly passed it over to her as he drove through the streets of their city.

Florence took it and typed in his passcode with an excited smile. She opened up his pictures and tapped the most recent one, her smile falling, “Dani, this is only a picture of you.”

“I know!” Daniel laughed. “We looked like quintuplets or something!”

“No…I mean you are the only person in this picture.”

Daniel stopped the car at a red light and glanced over at his phone in her hand. His smile fell as well as he stared at the selfie he had taken before they all parted ways, only his own face captured in the frame, his four new friends missing as if they never existed in the first place.

[jasontoddiefor]

Hello! I was reading the « fic rec » question and i would be reeeeaaaallly glad to have a look at what you liked! Anything Anakin-related, and preferably AU or fix it (the nile ain’t just a river yada yada...) Thaaaaaanks

Anakin fix-its? You’ve come to the right place. These are all the stories in my bookmarks tagged as “fix it”! There are more but I do not have the patience to search for all of them rn. Not all of these are as Jedi positive as I like my fanfic, but they’re all 10/10 reads regardless.

Title: The Giver Summary: Anakin had pretty much adjusted to life at the Jedi temple. He went to class, he trained with his master, and he had begun to have strange dreams. A friendly figure would meet him at night when he closed his eyes and went to sleep. As they build up their friendship, Anakin begins to slowly confide in them, telling him about his worries, hopes, and dreams. They offer guidance and wisdom, watching Anakin grow to be a Jedi Knight, and trying to figure out where everything went wrong. Sometimes, the answers that you're looking for aren't ahead of you, they're behind. Link:https://archiveofourown.org/works/22790647

Title: If you could love the flame Summary: And Anakin knows suddenly and irrevocably that they will always be this: his two royals, his two diplomats, his two myths come to life Link:https://archiveofourown.org/works/25100827

Title: Sabbatical Summary: Anakin decides to leave the Jedi as a child, and Obi-Wan goes with him. When Palpatine sends Dooku to find them, things don't go as planned. Link:https://archiveofourown.org/works/22801789

Title: where the light won’t find you Summary: Or maybe Anakin, Obi-Wan, and Ahsoka do turn to the Dark Side after Mortis. And maybe they accidentally save the galaxy anyways? (But that doesn't mean they still don't cause a headache for the rest of the galaxy.) Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24460300

Title: Family is more than Blood Summary:Two souls go into a sandstorm to change their fates. They find each other instead.Or the slightly cracky AU where a bounty hunter is the one that gives the Chosen One a proper family. Link:https://archiveofourown.org/works/24469039

Title: Twin Sons Summary: “He…” Anakin took a breath, trying to force his heart to stop hammering into his ribs, and he looked back at the man kneeling behind him, trying to apologize with his eyes, “he’s like me, sir. He’s like me, he’s a slave! His Master made him do this, his Master caused him…don’t hurt him. Not when we have him here, not when…not when we can free him.” - On Slavery, Freedom, and bringing Balance to the Force. Link:https://archiveofourown.org/works/24449365

Title: Aay’han Summary: Obi-Wan Kenobi sees what the Jedi Temple is doing to his Padawan, and he acts.This affects the galaxy in ways he never could have imagined. Link:https://archiveofourown.org/works/24280987

Title: if only i knew Summary:Newly knighted Obi-Wan Kenobi and his padawan, Anakin Skywalker, have been sent to Ryloth on a simple diplomatic envoy. While there, an unsettling incident causes Obi-Wan to look at Anakin in a new light and re-evaluate...everything.The Galaxy will never be the same.aka: "come for the obikin, stay for the tzai and deep emotional discussions that dismantle every single misunderstanding in the prequels." Link:https://archiveofourown.org/works/24353887

Title:  Ib'tuur Jatne Tuur Ash'ad Kyr'amur Summary: No one knows what the Council is hiding, but the effects ripple throughout the galaxy. Anakin knows he is loved. Former slaves are freed. A long-lost Master and his Padawan are returned to the Temple. No one understands how Obi-Wan Kenobi does these things, but they are grateful for it anyway. Link:https://archiveofourown.org/works/23581780

Coruscanti Regency The thing is, when Anakin figures it out, is that it all obviously has been there, if he’d only cared to look for it.And, admittedly, he is angry. Mostly at himself, which isn’t something that happens very often, so it’s an especially harrowing realization.All these years, he thinks, I’ve been so blind. I was so busy ignoring everything I didn’t want to think about and blaming everyone else for things not under their control that I didn’t stop to look at the bigger picture.He sighs and leans back in his chair to gaze at the ceiling.If only, he laments, true remorse coloring his thoughts, I had started watching period holodramas earlier.OR, how Plo Koon watching and subsequently introducing Ahsoka to Star Wars’ version of Downton Abbey changes Anakin's life path like nothing else could.

Reading Into Things When Ahsoka first meets the Supreme Chancellor, she gets a sense of his less than wholesome interest in her Master. Her intuition will go a long way.

Simple Steps Galaxy changing events don't just suddenly occur. They are the result of a series of small steps.

like someone bereft and lied to Anakin has a weird feeling in his stomach as he walks away from the Chancellor’s office.Who would have thought that Chancellor Palpatine would be a student of the Sith? Only to know how to keep the Republic safe from them, of course. All those priceless artifacts and holocrons that he’s collected to keep safe, hidden in his private rooms.It’s a good thing that he isn’t Force-sensitive, Anakin thinks with a small laugh, because the energy coming from all those things would have driven the poor man mad in a day. He only spent maybe twenty minutes in the room, just long enough to look at the piece the Chancellor thought might be of use to him, and his head was still spinning.

Deliver Us Jango Fett cannot save all his clones, but he can save five. He can save five, if he's willing to entrust them to the Jedi. Not just any Jedi, though. One who has already defied their Code for a child. One who knows Mandalorian culture. It is worth it, to save five innocent lives. He had no way of knowing it would change the galaxy and throw the proverbial spanner in one Sith Lord's plans.

we are all just trying to be holy  There was something warm and gentle in Depa’s voice, the way there always was, the way that was starting to sound like home to Anakin, though it would be awhile now before he recognized it. “Let me tell you a secret, my young Padawan: every Jedi has attachments.” He blinked up at her, eyes wide and confused. “Even Master Windu?” She laughed, nodding. “Even Master Windu.” -- An AU where Depa Billaba takes Anakin Skywalker as her Padawan, Obi Wan Kenobi interferes just a little bit, and Mace Windu is very, very tired.

The Price of a Name Anakin isn't quite sure how to deal with the clones he now commands, especially given that they refuse any attempts to individualize themselves. The quest to help the clones is going to go further than Anakin ever imagined.

Pebble in a River He woke up. And everything changed, but of course, that's what life does. It changes. There are so many options, so many things that seem right. And yet each of those things also feels wrong. Failure isn't an option, not again. But there is no outline for success, and he's hardly the only one in the game. He's tired, and exhausted, and so very lonely. But force help him, he's going to save as many people as he can. Really, Force, he needs the help.

Entirely of the Light With Palpatine unveiled as Sidious, Anakin manages to defeat him but ends up severely injured. As he recovers, Obi-Wan finds himself helping Padmé raise her and Anakin's children while he struggles with his feelings for both Anakin and Padmé.

Aggressive Negotiations  Everything about Skywalker was unorthodox. Even his parenting skills. A war meeting was the last place Rex expected to find a pair of toddlers, but there they were. But Rex is an officer, and a professional, and he will absolutely hold a child's hand if they ask. He's not a monster.

I had a vision! Mace Windu gets thrown back in time right to the point where Anakin is first presented to the Council. He remembers the horrors of the Clone Wars and he will do everything to change the oncoming future. "I had a vision" is becoming his most used phrase, he earns himself a Padawan with a penchant for trouble and Qui-Gon lives. All is going well, isn't it? No, there's still a republic to save, an army to deal with and most certainly a timeline to unfuck. Based on the tumblr posts by suzukiblu.

The Same Hope You will come to me sooner or later, Chosen One.Maybe once, when he was in the middle of a war that seemed like it would never end, a secret relationship dividing him between two of the people he loved most, juggling the guilt of failing his padawan. Maybe the Anakin back then had felt beholden to destiny, had had no choices, had felt like he would never have any choices.But the Anakin of now is a different person, because of his choices.He chose to leave the Order. He chose a new start.He chose acceptance, and understanding, and sometimes even forgiveness.He chose Obi-Wan. Always Obi-Wan.[[ The story of how we got here and everything that happens after. ]]

A Mind Always Free "Observe. Learn what you can. Keep everything secret. Don't be emotionless, but don't allow your emotions to show. And most importantly, take what you can get when you can get it, but let it go when it is taken away from you," Shmi Skywalker said softly, caressing the face of her son.(Anakin remembers what's like to be a slave and the Galaxy is better for it.)

Home  Time travel fix-it story with a bit of a twist. After his death, Obi-Wan wakes up on Tatooine, in the body of his padawan self. But instead of trying to prevent Anakin from Falling, he decides to change the future by stopping Qui-Gon from ever meeting the little Ani. If Anakin lives like a civilian, away from the Temple and Palpatine, the world will be a better place... right?A story in which Obi-Wan learns that Anakin Skywalker will always be his home--and his ultimate weakness--regardless of his attempts to do the right thing and stay away.

You Shall Become (Me) The Guardian of the Sith Temple doesn’t particularly care for the new breed of Sith, for all that they’ve been around for 1,000 years. But they’re the only Sith the Guardian knows about. Until one day…Alternately, "How to accidentally join the Sith without really trying."

Elements The words “Yes, Master,” come out of Anakin’s mouth so naturally that Obi-Wan suspects they were his first words. The realization comes to him so suddenly: his Padawan still has the mindset of a slave. When he decides to fix that, everything changes.

The Chosen Anakin is found by Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan when he's a newborn. It changes things.

The Sun and the Ocean Five things that happened when the twins were born early.hint: threesomes happen and assholes die.

A Time For A Yes, a Time For A Hell No The Council comes to him with a stupid, asinine plan that will only work if Anakin is in on it. Only to tell them that Anakin isn't going to be in on it.That's the moment Obi-wan decides he's had enough.[Prequel to my story "Go on, Go! Walk out that door" or 'The Scene' that started it all]

Magic Blankets C-3PO accidentally saves the galaxy by teaching a young Ani Skywalker how to crochet.Or in which the power of love and crafts solve a lot of problems and the Jedi Creche is about two inches away from kidnapping Anakin at any given moment.

[thetvmoviefan]

Nabrina FanFics Part 10

Sabrina Spellman & Nicholas Scratch (Nick Scratch) FanFics MASTERLIST (UPDATEABLE PINNABLE)

Updated: September 20, 2020

As we await for news on Part 4 and when exactly when we will get the final part of CAOS, here are some fantastic Nabrina Fics by some wickedly good writers. Escape into their amazing and magical creations through their amazing writing as we wait on a final part. Make sure to leave some Love/Praise or Kudos through the comments on their work. Or maybe given them a little message to how much you enjoy their stories, they are the heroes through this Nabrina/CAOS hiatus. 

As always have a Wicked or Hell-ish these fics and ENJOY!!!!

Fics in order by Last Update: 9/20/2020

[Key: AU=Alternate Reality - AH=All Human/All Mortal - * = New Fics to List]

1. “Wicked Winds”*

Author: sarahkwut @sarahwyland

Summary: Nicholas Scratch winds up at the Academy of Unseen Arts after being kicked out of several others for being too smart - and too powerful - for his own good. He’s got a chip on his shoulder and he’s not in Greendale to make friends. But then he meets Sabrina Spellman, a witch that’s not only beautiful, but just as up for breaking the rules as him.Except she wants nothing to do with him.His old friend Prudence places a bet that he can’t get her to give into him - but things get complicated as he not only starts to fall for Sabrina, but a deadly darkness settles over Greendale. Rated M - Chapters 1/? - Last Update 9/19/2020

2. “Let’s Fall in Love for the Night”*

Author: shotgunkitten @shotgunkitten​

Summary: Hilda Spellman once said that their meeting was fate. And while neither Sabrina Spellman nor Nicholas Scratch were sure if they believed in that kind of thing, they were sure of this: They never wanted to find out what their lives would be like without each other. AU/AH- Rated T - Chapters 10/? - Last Update 9/18/2020

3. “Cruel Summer”

Author: thoughtsaboutshows @thoughtsaboutshows

Summary: A mix between AU and Cannon, where the young members of the Church of Night also attend Baxter High. The young witches and warlocks then go to the Unseen Arts Summer Camp to bolster their gifts. However Sabrina, being half mortal, only began attending after her Dark Baptism. To the mortals of Greendale, Unseen Arts Camp was for the wealthy. An elite sector of the Baxter High youth that attended a camp deep in the Greendale Wood far upstream of Sweetwater River. Many had tried to find and break in, but none have succeeded. To the mortals, the divide between the camp attendees and the not was of money and status. When in fact, the difference lay with light vs. night.Set between two timelines- the present and the summer, Sabrina attends camp for the first time and grows closer to Nick only for them to be torn apart as school starts. Rated Mature - Chapters 24/? - Last Update 9/17/2020

4. “Unwritten”

Author: Miss_Kath90 aka @misskath90

Summary: Tired of her aunt’s matchmaking attempts, Sabrina decides to tell a little white lie… and now she needs a boyfriend to accompany her to her hometown for the holidays.And who better to play that part than her good friend Nicholas Scratch? There is only one little problem… He had a crush on her since the day they met. When two friends pretend to be in a relationship, what could possibly go wrong? Rated T - Chapters 9/? - Last Update 9/15/2020

5. “Before the Devil Breaks Me”*

Author: willowaus @willowaus

Summary: All Sabrina wants to do is enjoy the last few years with her mortal friends. Attend college, party a little too hard, and make endless memories with them. But when you're a Spellman nothing ever goes as planned, especially not when she meets her handsomely mischievous classmate, Nick Scratch, who introduces her to a side of witchcraft that she's never thought possible.When people start ending up murdered in ritual sacrifices on campus Sabrina knows she can't keep both of her worlds apart any longer. Especially when it seems each murder is a message for her. AU - Rated Mature - Chapters 19/? - Last Update 9/15/2020

6. “If You Let Me”

Author: bunivy aka @bunivys

Summary: After pouring all of her time and effort into obtaining a law degree in the city, Sabrina Spellman moves back to Greendale for one last summer before she departs for good. She's fully intent on enjoying her stay in her hometown, even deciding to pick up a part-time job at her Aunt Hilda's cafe to save up some money. The only problem is that the boy in the bookstore across the way is one she's had some not-so-good history with and it's becoming increasingly harder to ignore him. Before long, she finds herself exploring the complexities of old high-school grudges and what-ifs, all while trying to sort out her present-day relationship with the boy she has long since deemed as non-existent.Meanwhile, Nicholas Scratch wonders if it would just be easier to remain non-existent. AU/AH - Rated Mature - Chapters 23/? - Last Update 9/04/2020

7. “Off The Record - One Shots”

Author: sarahkwut @sarahwyland

Summary: Missing scenes from my completed piece, 'Off The Record.' AU/AH - Not Rated - Chapters 8/? - Last Update 9/07/2020

8. "Free Pour”

Author: sarahkwut @sarahwyland

Summary: He's a bartender with a perfect free pour and a Ph.D. candidate. She thinks she wants to be a lawyer and wishes she had taken more chances in life. Both of them are trying to move on. But when their paths collide, Nick's hand is no longer steady with the bottle and she's far more willing to take a risk. AU/AH - Rated Mature - Chapters 23/23 - COMPLETED 9/01/2020

9. "Burning House”*

Author: thoughtsaboutshows @thoughtsaboutshows​

Summary: Sabrina hasn't seen him in months but she still sees him everywhere. Nick sees her every night in his dreams. They both know what they want, but won't let the other have it. Not yet. Not when Nick will hardly talk to her and Sabrina used well...THAT candle... ONE-SHOT - Not Rated - Chapters 1/1 - Last Update 8/28/2020

10. “Born To Love You”*

Author: thoughtsaboutshows aka @thoughtsaboutshows

Summary: So Sabrina left Harvey at the altar for Nick. What now? Tune in for snapshots into Nick and Sabrina's life now that they've admitted their true feelings. What happened after Sabrina left Harvey and ran to Nick? Did they live happily ever after?This will be a collection of snapshots of this version of Nick and Sabrina. I don't know how often it will be updated, but we will get a look into their life together.I enjoy writing my fics based on songs, so if a particular song screams this Nick and Sabrina to you please message me on tumblr or comment below and maybe I'll write a scene based on it! ****Follow up to One-Shot Marry Me. Go READ it first!****  AU/AH - Not Rated - Chapters 3/? - Last Update 8/15/2020

11. “The Four Pictures”

Author: Copper_16

Summary: It’s been 10 years. Nick and Sabrina are teachers at the Academy along with some familiar faces. It’s been a decade there can’t be that much chaos anymore, right? Wrong. Rated T - Chapters 4/? - Last Update 8/04/2020

12. “Marry Me”*

Author: thoughtsaboutshows @thoughtsaboutshows

Summary: “No, No, No.” Nick said as he shook his head at Prudence. “Sabrina is my best friend. That’s it.”“Sure.” Prudence shrugged her shoulders.When she explained to her brother that they were likely more she had said it as a statement, not an invitation to have a conversation about it. She was entirely annoyed by the Spellman girl, and had found it odd and irritating that she and her brother had been attached at the hip from a young age.“Besides she’s marrying Kinkle, Prudence.” Nick explained more to himself than to Prudence. His eyes were wild and looking around the room, searching for something to land on. “Not me.”“Do you want her to?” Prudence asked as she leaned forward. Nick paused, unsure how to answer that question. Nick had been in love with Sabrina Spellman for most of his life. But she was happy with Harvey Kinkle. Prudence rolled her eyes and stood up sighing, and placed a hand on Nick’s shoulder. She was rarely affectionate and this was as comforting as she got. “You may want to figure that out.” AU/AH - Rated Mature - ONE-SHOT - Chapters 1/1 - Last Update 7/11/2020

13. “The Chaos In the Stars”

Author: willowaus @willowaus

Summary: Nick sacrificed himself to save her, but Sabrina's not about to let him fester away in Hell. But what happens when saving the one she loves brings about a series of apocalyptic events that Sabrina and the rest of the Spellman clan need to thwart?Alternate part 3. (Part 3 Fic) - Rated Mature - Chapters 24/24 - COMPLETED 6/30/2020

14. “A Little Wicked”

Author: Miss_Kath90 aka @misskath90

Summary: Sometimes, in the darkness of her room, unable to sleep, she thought about how easy it would be to fall in love with him. And she was sure a part of her was a bit in love with him already, but she kept holding to the past and that was hurting them both. Rated Mature - Chapters 1/1 - Last Update 6/16/2020

15. “Crash Into Me”

Author: thoughtsaboutshows @thoughtsaboutshows

Summary: Set after Part 3 and some time after Nick and Sabrina's breakup. Just a little one-shot of a mission they get sent on by Zelda. Tough conversations and some tears...and one bed ONE-SHOT - Not Rated - Chapters 1/1 - Last Update 6/15/2020

16. “Heaven can’t help me now”

Author: bunivy @bunivys

Summary: Soulmates are a universal law, the way of life. Sabrina's soulmate is Harvey, but she'll pick Nick every time, in every way. ONE-SHOT - Not Rated - Chapters 1/1 - Last Update 6/13/2020

17. “I knew you were trouble”

Author: Miss_Kath90 aka @misskath90

Summary: Sabrina didn’t know that being away from home for the first time could be so hard.Away from her aunts, friends and her-lifelong-boyfriend, Sabrina have to deal with the nostalgia but also with the new challenges College's life mean: get used to share a room with a not-so-nice roommate, put up with long hours of study and very few of sleep, learn to live from pre-cooked meals instead of her aunt Hilda’s homemade ones, find balance between her studies and her new social life… And resist the temptation a certain Nicholas Scratch mean for her. AU/AH - Rated Mature - Chapters 28/28 - COMPLETED 6/06/2020

18. “A Thing or Two to Learn”

Author: gracefulchaos

Summary: What if Sabrina and Nick weren't in the same coven, and they met each other later in life? AU - Rated Mature - Chapters 1/? - Last Update 6/06/2020

19. “When the Bones are Good”

Author: sarahkwut @sarahwyland

Summary: Sabrina Spellman is enjoying her life as a normal teenager. Sabrina Morningstar is reigning Hell with an iron fist. Ambrose Spellman is searching for a solution to bring them back together and close the time loop, Sabrina's wishes be damned. And Nicholas Scratch? He's faced down his own demons and he's desperate for redemption.Except the clock is ticking.On time and Terrors. (Part 4 Fic) - Rated General - Chapters 28/28 - COMPLETED 6/05/2020

20. “Bury a Lie”

Author: raeinthedark

Summary: Sabrina is comfortable with death. It's her job. But everything is changed on a rainy October morning. The life and work she was accustomed to are forever different in the wake of tragedy. There really isn't coming back from this, unless she can figure out who's behind it. AU/AH - Rated Mature - Chapters 3/? - Last Update 5/04/2020

21. “I run to you”

Author: thoughtsaboutshows @thoughtsaboutshows

Summary: Nick and Sabrina love two things. Research and each other. But their research often takes them to far away places, and far away from the person they love most. AU/AH - Not Rated - Chapters 1/1 - One-Shot COMPLETED - 5/21/2020

22. “My Body Is A Canvas For Your Love”

Author: Unseemingowl aka @unseemingowl

Summary: Sabrina had no love for the whip or the belt or the cane that Nick had used to enjoy so much, but restraints... That was another matter entirely. Rated E Mature - Chapters 1/1 - Last Update 4/29/2020

23. ”Ground Beneath Her Feet”

Author: mindlesshappy aka @feministstree

Summary: Sabrina is born out of a miracle - one that she wishes would repeat for her, but when she is destined for someone else, how much can she resist before her heart decides to give in. Alternatively, Nick is Sabrina's soulmate, but she really just wants Harvey to be it. Also, in the backseat are all the other possible ships, getting their own soulmate glories. Rated T - Chapters 18/? - Last Update 4/17/2020

24. “in your eyes (there's something burning inside you)”

Author: jessequicksters

Summary: Nicholas falls in love with Sabrina as fast as a mortal sells their soul to the devil. The only problem is, in the Church of Night, everything has a price. Even love.Especially love.(He bleeds every time he dreams of Sabrina and when they kiss, it happens too, but love isn't supposed to hurt, right? Except he's never known about love; the only thing he knows is that this half-mortal is going to be the death of him.) Rated Mature - Chapters 5/5 - Last Update 3/22/2020

25. “The Institute for Divine Craft”

Author: rayo aka @its-nabrina-bitch

Summary: After a humiliating spat with Father Blackwood pushes Sabrina away from her witching life and the Academy, Madam Satan crafts an alternative solution to move Sabrina Spellman further down the path of night. Ultimately leading her to the Institute for the Divine Craft. A handsome Headmaster with mysterious ties to her father, convinces Sabrina to abandon her mortal life, and cultivate her abilities as a child of the Church of Lucifer. AU - Rated Mature - Chapters 19/? - Last Update 3/22/2020

26. “My Lover of Blood and Milk”

Author: Unseemingowl aka @unseemingowl

Summary: It didn’t feel as though it had only been a few hours since she had made her way to the Greendale woods for Lupercalia. As she sat there, shivering in her muddied and bloodied silk slip, it felt as if a completely different person had made her way back out of the forest...... Or how Sabrina struggles with lust and trust after her disastrous Lupercalian night with Nick. Rated Mature - Chapters 4/4 - Last Update 3/15/2020

27. “I Need to Know”

Author: raeinthedark

Summary: Love isn't that easy to erase... and that song is on again. Rated General - Chapters 1/1 - Last Update 2/29/2020

28. “Be True To Your School”

Author: rayo aka @its-nabrina-bitch

Summary: Nicholas Scratch is the Golden Boy™ of Baxter High; star athlete, top of his class academically, and devastatingly handsome. Sabrina Spellman sees Sophomore year as an opportunity to expand her horizons; joining the cheerleading squad, running for student council, and making new friends along the way while working to maintain her relationships with her old friends. What Sabrina Spellman doesn't know: sophomore year is about to turn her world upside-down. Rated T - Chapters 6/? - Last Update 2/23/2020

29. “Ocean”

Author: sarahkwut

Summary: AU, M-Rated. Nicholas Scratch has everything working in his favor. He's got a decent job as a history teacher, his roommate Melvin is always up for video games and getting high, and Sabrina Spellman lets him mess up her sheets frequently. Sabrina knows Nick isn't good for her, but she can't stay away, no matter how hard it is to pretend she's completely okay with their casual arrangement. But when life takes an unexpected curve, Nick is forced to face a new normal he doesn't know how to navigate. And Sabrina may or may not be there to help him through it. AU/AH - Rated Mature - Chapters 27/27 - COMPLETED 2/10/2020

30. “I’ll be there”

Author: Miss_Kath90 aka @misskath90

Summary: She couldn’t stop looking at him, since she had recovered him from the claws of the Dark Lord, she felt unable to be apart from him and had to admit that part of her was afraid he would disappear if she moved from his side. And Sabrina wouldn't let anyone or anything separate him from her again. Never. Rated Mature - Chapters 1/1 - Last Update 1/30/2020

31. “Walk away”

Author: Miss_Kath90 aka @misskath90

Summary: Pain. Could he someday escape the pain? He sometimes thought it impossible. It was strange, his relationship with the pain, it was an enemy and a friend. The pain numbed him. The pain didn’t let him sleep. The pain hurt him and soothed him. It was unhealthy, the way the pain helped him relieve the pain. But it was the only thing he had left. Rated T - Chapters 1/1 - Last Update 1/27/2020

32. “To Hell and Back”

Author: sarahkwut

Summary: Sabrina was successful in her efforts to retrieve Nick from Hell, but the damage - physical and emotional - is deep. Sometimes, the only way to heal is to go your separate ways and trust things will work themselves out in the end. (Written before Part 3 - an alternate take on how Nick recovers from his time in Hell - with and without Sabrina). Rated Mature - Chapters 3/3 - Last Update 1/26/2020

33. “The Morning(star) After”

Author: rayo aka @its-nabrina-bitch

Summary: A Painful NickxSabrina Reunion Rated T - Chapters 1/3 - Last Update 1/24/2020

34. “My only love sprung from my only hate”

Author: filmharlot

Summary: High School AU where Nick is based on the version of him that Sabrina creates in her dream during the Batibat episode. Harvey and Sabrina have broken up and don't want to work together on the Romeo and Juliet assignment in Drama class, so she ends up being partners with Nick AU - Not Rated - Chapters 8/? - Last Update 1/19/2020

35. “A very witchy Christmas”

Author: Miss_Kath90 aka @misskath90

Summary: Just a bit of silly Christmas fluff that I couldn’t help but write, placed in the series universe after a huge jump in time. Not Rated - Chapters 1/1 - Last Update 12/25/2019

36. “Mortal Little Christmas”

Author: HeartsInJeopardy

Summary: ‘Twas the night before Christmas – and the first for Nick Scratch - but Sabrina’s holiday movie was not a good match. Rated T - Chapters 2/2 - Last Update 12/21/2019

37. “Lessons in the Unseen”

Author: bunivy aka @bunivys

Summary: Academy Teachers AU. Sabrina Spellman lives as simple a life as a half-mortal half-witch can. Despite her dislike for the headmaster, she enjoys spending her time teaching Ritual Magic at the Academy of Unseen Arts, hoping to positively shape the minds of young witches and warlocks. However, with the sudden dreadful announcement of her aunt Zelda's engagement and the appearance of one mysterious - and strikingly handsome - Nicholas Scratch, Sabrina finds that her life is not so simple anymore. Or all that safe. AU - Rated Mature - Chapters 32/32 - COMPLETED 12/17/2019

38. “Just a Little Obsessed”

Author: eyerys

Summary: Nicholas has developed a tinie-tiny crush on Sabrina. Nothing like major or whatever. It's not like he thinks about her all the time or daydreams about what it would be like to be with her or how cool she is. No, not at all.Sabrina doesn't have a crush on Nick. No, not at all. Uh-uh. She has Harvey. Sweet and loving Harvey Kinkle. But for some reason, she can't help but find her mind wandering. Rated T - Chapters 1/1 - Last Update 12/13/2019

39. “As The Moon Rises”

Author: venzaren

Summary: Sabrina Spellman is tired.Tired of living a double life. Tired of facing discrimination at the hands of her pack. Tired of dealing with her status as an Omega. And most of all, she's tired of people hounding her about finding her mate.Then Nick Scratch returns to Greendale. AU - Rated General - Chapters 1/? - Last Update 12/07/2019

40. “Thirteen Memories”

Author: tempestbreak

Summary: (Set at the end of Season 2) Sabrina and her friends go to Hell and rescue Nick -- but what happens when that's the easy part?It turns out, having the Dark Lord inside your mind for months can do some damage, and Nick comes back different. His memories of the events leading up to his sacrifice, including his relationship with Sabrina, are gone. How can Sabrina help him regain his memories of their time together when she's not even sure she trusts her own? Rated Mature - Chapters 6/? - Last Update 11/02/2019

41. “But The Greatest Is Love”

Author: sarahkwut

Summary: The acheron captured Lucifer Morningstar, but their problems are far from over. The coven is decimated, the Church of Night is no more, Father Blackwood is on the run, and Nick and Sabrina's relationship is in ruins. How do they pick up the pieces and move on? There are more questions than answers and the consequences could be of biblical proportions. Rated Mature - Chapters 25/25 - COMPLETED 10/28/2019

42. “Back to You”

Author: nadiaselite

Summary: Sabrina brings Nick back from hell. Rated T - Chapters 1/1 - Last Update 10/11/2019

43. “The Open Road”

Author: paradiamond

Summary: Nick wants her back, and he’s willing to do whatever it takes. In fact, he insists on it. Rated T - Chapters 1/1 - Last Update 9/22/2019

44. “The words “I love you” aren’t enough”

Author: Miss_Kath90

Summary: “Look at me, Nick” he was reluctant but when he finally looked up she took his face in her hands making him unable to look away “What you did that day… Nick, you sacrificed yourself for my sake, even when I mistreated you and told you all those horrible things. You did it for me, because you love me… Don’t you see? You’re incapable of being evil.”Or... Sabrina gets her boyfriend back but things don’t go as smoothly as she thinks they will. Rated Mature - Chapters 1/1 - Last Update 9/22/2019

45. “Mission: Let’s get my boyfriend back”

Author: My_Evak_Heart

Summary: Sabrina and the Fright Club ventures on their first mission: getting Nick back from Hell Not Rated - Chapters 1/1 - Last Update 9/7/2019

46. “Jealousy is a killer”

Author: Melissa1226

Summary: Will Sabrina and Nick Start something new? and who is watching them from the shadow full of jealousy? Rated Mature - Chapters 8/? - Last Update 8/28/2019

47. “The Jock”

Author: mikaila_ealum

Summary: An Alternate Universe where Nicholas Scratch is Baxter High’s quarterback along with one of the most popular boys at school. With few knowing the truth, Scratch is living a double life as a warlock at the Academy of Unseen Arts. Sabrina takes a hiatus from the Academy to get more in touch with her mortal side. When Sabrina gets back she becomes partners with Nicholas for a project in theatre class. AU - Chapters 8/? - Last Update 8/07/2019

48. “act 5, scene 2 (thou and i are too wise to woo peaceably)”

Author: ghostemo aka @wickedscratch

Summary: When Sabrina Spellman rose to a challenge issued by Prudence Night, she never imagined she’d actually make the varsity cheer squad - or that doing so would upend life as she knew it. Now she has to navigate her new role within the social hierarchy of hell -er Baxter High as well as trying to get her boyfriend to actually communicate. It certainly doesn’t help that she’s been paired up with the annoyingly handsome Nicholas Scratch, captain of Greendale’s beloved football team, for a project in her theater class. It’s exactly as, if not more so, cliche as it sounds. AU/AH - Rated T - Chapters 3/? - 7/25/2019

49. “Off the Record”

Author: sarahkwut

Summary: AU. Detective Nicholas Scratch left New York for Greendale in desperate need of a change of scenery. The small town takes some getting used to, but local reporter Sabrina Spellman quickly grabs his attention. It's the fresh start he needed until Greendale's residents start turning up dead. With a murderer on the loose, no one is innocent - and anyone might be next. AU/AH - Rated Mature - Chapters 29/29 - COMPLETED 7/22/2019

50. “Bring You Close To Me”

Author: BridgetMcKennitt

Summary: Sabrina and her friends managed to bring Nicholas back from Hell. There was a lot the two of them needed to discuss, but tonight, they had this. Rated E Mature - Chapters 1/1 - One Shot - Last Update 7/13/2019

51. “A Brief Moment”

Author: bunivy aka @bunivys

Summary: Ever since he's returned from Hell, Nicholas Scratch has been having nightmares. With help from Aunt Hilda, Sabrina unknowingly shows him a light and for a moment, Nicholas knows everything will be okay. Rated General - Chapters 1/1 - One Shot - Last Update 6/24/2019

52. “To Hell and Back”

Author: swtnerdgirl

Summary: A year has passed since Sabrina and her friends rescued Nick from Hell. No one came back the same. They all had their scars. Some emotionally. Some physically. In the days leading to Hilda's wedding, they all prepare for their lives to change and heal their wounds. Rated Mature - Chapters 16/? - Last Update 6/06/2019

53. “Dead Witch Walking”

Author: rayo aka @its-nabrina-bitch

Summary: Faced with the possibility of being harrowed to death by her classmates, Sabrina finds an escape. Rated E Mature - Chapters 1/1 - One Shot - Last Update 5/26/2019

54. “Moonlight Beneath Rough Lips”

Author: ivylikeveins

Summary: After the encounter with the thirteen witches of Greendale, Sabrina enters the dining hall with moonlight locks bathed in soft blue hues, and Nick does not know what to do. He ends up with a soft and small Sabrina pressed into his chest, sleeping, and wrapped around his very much over-sized jacket with Nick's lips pressed into the soft, pearly strands he wants his soul to get entangled within. Rated Mature - Chapters 1/1 - One Shot - Last Update 5/19/2019

55. “The Hunt”

Author: OnlyInAutumn

Summary: Nick howled into the night, up at the stars to signify that he was ready on the eve of Lupercalia, the darkness of midnight around them. The first sound of the horn sent them into the forest. The hunt had begun. Rated E Mature - Chapters 1/1 - One Shot - Last Update 5/11/2019

56. “Secrets, Secrets are no Fun”

Author: filmharlot

Summary: Sabrina is the new kid for the first time in her life. Choosing to go to the Academy full-time seems to be a hard transition than she was expecting. With the Weird Sisters harassment at an all-time high, dealing with leaving her mortal friend's and condescending teachers, Sabrina is suffering. She's not even allowed to have Salem for comfort. It's not all bad though. She is finally free to do magic whenever she wants, and there's a charming warlock who is being particularly nice to her. Plus, someone is leaving kind gifts on her bed at the end of the night. She just wishes she knew who it was. Not Rated - Chapters 1/? - Last Update 5/06/2019

57. “Unsettled Nighttime Creatures”

Author: mindlesshappy

Summary: We all know Sabrina is going to save Nick. This is how Nick reacts to being saved - which, spoilers alert - is like a very stupid warlock. Rated T - Chapters 5/5 - Completed 4/25/2019

58. “Selfless”

Author: sarahwut

Summary: Sabrina Spellman dragged Nicholas Scratch back from Hell. But Hell might be better than a world in which they aren't together. Rated General - Chapters 1/1 - One Shot - Completed 4/23/2019

59. “Homecoming”

Author: cherrystems

Summary: After several months Sabrina is able to get Nick back from Hell with the help of her family and friends. However, Nick has to adjust to Earth again while dealing with PTSD and anxiety. This tells the story of the growth of Sabrina and Nick's relationship over the recovery time. Not Rated - Chapters 3/? - Last Update 4/20/2019

60. “Under Your Spell”

Author: londonmarie

Summary: Sabrina doesn't hesitate to have her Dark Baptism and things go differently. Rated T - Chapters 10/? - Last Update 4/18/2019

61. “Photographs”

Author: Greyowl9831

Summary: It's been at least 150 years since Sabrina signed her name in the Book of the Beast. One day she finds an old photo album. Will the memories it contains be a great walk down memory lane or will it be more than she can bare? Not Rated - Chapters 4/? - Last Update 4/14/2019

62. “An itch That Needed Scratching”

Author: umbrellacorp

Summary: What if Nick slayed his familiar and Sabrina and Nick got to experience the last night of the Lupercalia festival alone. Tonight, Sabrina would be transformed. Nick was going to show her power that she never knew she had, an innate carnal power. They were about to become the most powerful union of the Church of Night. Rated E Mature - Chapters 1/1 - One Shot - Last Update 4/13/2019

63. “and I keep waiting (but I won’t say I’m waiting)”

Author: lost_n_stereo @lost-n-stereo

Summary: You would think that it would hurt less as the days go by, since it’s been nearly two years since Nick sacrificed himself for the greater good and Lilith took him to hell. Except, he didn’t sacrifice himself for the greater good, he sacrificed himself for her. And that makes it a hell of a lot tougher to let go. Rated General - Chapters 1/1 - One Shot - Last Update 4/10/2019

64. “Fire”

Author: OnlyInAutumn

Summary: Their power—together—was overwhelming. It was something that she had not felt either, the consuming feeling of expanding power. It was entirely addicting. Rated Mature - Chapters 2/2 - Completed 3/24/2019

65. “something I can believe”

Author: Anry

Summary: Missing scene after Sabrina's baptism. I wouldn't say that it's really a relationship here, just conversation. Rated General - Chapters 1/1 - One Shot - Last Update 1/25/2019

AND THERE YOU GO!!!! Have fun everyone, if I missed any Fics or you have any recommendations for the list message me or send in a ask and I’ll add it to the list. Hopefully by the time you’ve checked out some of these stories we will finally know something about Part 4. 

[gothic-safari-clown]

The Mind’s Power Over the Body

Part 24: Don’t Count Your Chickens...

Story summary: They only ever had each other. It had been that way since high school, ever since Elianna transferred to dreary Arlen and took Jonathan under her wing. They go separate ways for college, and when they're reunited at Arkham Asylum professionally, Elianna comes to find that they've both changed during their time separated. Can she look past the promise of danger and stay by Jonathan's side as they slide further and further into the darkness while she grapples to come to terms with the truth about herself? Can she accept what needs to be done in order to hold onto the only person who holds any meaning in her life? This is a very self-indulgent AU that draws from several different canons of the DCU and ignoring others, starting in the Batman Begins Nolanverse. This will follow the plot of the movie, although the timeline has been very slightly tweaked.

Word count: 1136

Jonathan wasn't entirely sure where he was. Physically he knew he was in Arkham and was vaguely aware of the straightjacket binding his arms to his torso. But mentally, he was adrift. Neither in control nor out of control, he felt that he was somewhere in the middle along with Scarecrow, who was characteristically raving against the situation. Unable to gain full awareness of his surroundings, he had already lost track of time, but he was sure that if he had to listen to Scarecrow for much longer, he might truly go insane.

Luckily, that didn't seem to be in the cards. When the door to their cell swung open, it came so unexpectedly that the shock pulled both Jonathan and Scarecrow back to the cusp of control, each trying to force the other back down.

They watched the corridor as their fellow inmates began trickling through. While Scarecrow found himself confused, Jonathan's heart began to beat faster as he slowly pieced together what was happening.

Good call sending El away, Jonathan praised, feeling pride as he realized who must have been behind this.

Unfortunately, restrained by a straitjacket as they were, there was no point in them joining the throng of criminals spilling out of the asylum.

As quickly as they had resigned themselves to that fact, two SWAT men entered the room, dropping a bolt of burlap—our mask, no, my face— onto their lap before loosening their restraints. Jonathan's feeling of pride swelled even further when the taller of the two men spoke.

"That girl, Elianna? You must be pretty important to her. We asked why release everyone instead of just you, and she said something about revenge for taking you in the first place. She was pretty angry."

"I don't doubt it," Jonathan spoke disconnectedly while Scarecrow stood and put on their—his. Our?—face. "She has some...." while Jonathan was conjuring up the right word, Scarecrow took over, chuckling darkly. "Issues."

.xXx.

El was waiting impatiently just outside the asylum grounds, flanked by Axel, Aleksi, and Sam. The more inmates came spilling out before Jonathan, the more frustrated she became. However, watching the swarm of criminals through the slightly distorted lenses of her mask brought her a twisted sense of fulfillment.

If they wanted to play hardball, then she would gladly oblige.

Between the dispersion of the toxin that would soon occur and the criminally insane being let loose on this city, Gotham's finest would have a hell of a time trying to maintain order. The thought of the impending chaos summoned a smile to her face.

Gotham in freefall. What a beautiful thing to have the opportunity for rebirth. They should be grateful.

Finally, she caught sight of Scarecrow's mask, and her heart leapt. He was being escorted through the mire by two armed guards.

El dashed forward to meet them, her men right behind her. The masked pair stopped right in front of each other.

"Scarecrow?"

"I'm here. Beautiful job with all of this, gorgeous." The rough voice was surprisingly comforting, given El's previous run-ins with the straw man, and she grinned beneath her mask.

"Is Jonathan alright in there?"

"Oh, he's just fine. Very proud of you. Let's get started. Tearful reunions can come later." He brushed past her without another word, leaving El to dismiss the SWAT officers. They understood that their work was done and retreated to their truck with a nod from her without question.

With that done, El turned back to follow Scarecrow, beckoning the trio of men to trail along. As the five stood on the hill of the long driveway, looking out over the city, sounds of unrest and fear were already spreading, no doubt caused by the mass break out.

"Listen to that." Scarecrow was already enjoying himself immensely, practically breathing in the panic.

"They have no idea what's coming." They stood another moment, bracing for what else the night would bring before El spoke again. "I take it we won't be getting out of the city before it hits?"

"No, we missed the pick-up. I'd much rather be here anyway, wouldn't you?" The burlap mask turned to El, and she could practically hear the deranged smile behind it, flashes of the first time she had seen it swimming before her eyes. Despite that, she found herself smiling back.

"Yeah. I've put too much skin into this game to miss it." She gave one last look to the city before turning to the thugs that had helped her. "You boys had best find somewhere to hide. You're not going to like what comes next."

"You sure, boss?" That made Scarecrow's ears prick, and he whipped his head to watch the interaction with narrowed eyes. "You know we'd have your back anywhere." The trio had grown very attached to El in 24 hours. All things considered, she was the best boss they had ever had.

"Oh, I know, and we'll remember that. For now, you all get out of dodge. And stay out of our way, for your own good." The trio nodded, and she said her final goodbyes with a quick hug for each of them before returning to the masked man, while the goons retreated in the opposite direction.

"They should know better than to talk to you like that in front of me."

"What, you jealous?" El scoffed. "Unsubstantiated, don't you worry yourself about them. Come on; it's about to start. I don't want to miss anything."

With that, the pair started their trek into the city. As they grew nearer, the sounds of screaming and chaos grew louder and louder, signaling that the attack had begun. Scarecrow smiled to himself at the cacophony. He had waited almost Jonathan's whole life for something like this, and nothing was going to stop his good time.

Jonathan—trusting Scarecrow to handle the situation, given that this was his area of expertise—let himself float in middle space. The distant, muted cries of a city in distress marked his success, and he allowed himself a moment of rest. He had done it; all of his work and effort to bring the night's events into fruition had finally seen a conclusion.

Amidst the pandemonium of the city burning, he and El could find a way out of the city. Maybe steal a small boat from the city's elite and get to the mainland. Regardless, they would get away, find somewhere else and mind their own business. It was a nice thought, relaxing.

Even still, he was careful not to get too far ahead of himself. Anything could happen before Scarecrow had had enough to let him try to regain control. Even residing in the back of their mind, he had to stay vigilant until he could take that chance.

It was going to be a very long night.

[le-switch]

Yes, that’s right, 125 pecking headcanons

This has been in my notes for way too long dfjkdf

I’ve been writting down headcanons for the switch in time au for a while. I stopped doing that now so i thought i might as well share what i got done

@switch-in-time It is time- JK you already saw these

💫 Empress thinks the other kids are really cool but doesn't wanna admit it 💫 After sneaking through the manor, Snatch started to strongly dislike cold weather, and even became a little afraid of it 💫 Moonjumper also started to dislike cold weather, just not as much as his brother 💫 The florist is taller than everyone else. She makes fun of everyone for it but will stop if someome gets actually upset 💫 Grooves prefers instrumental music over lyrical music, since he can create his own lyrics for them 💫 Despite being a very popular and talktative kid, Grooves doesn't feel comfortable enough to sing in front of others yet 💫 Connie is the only one who has heard Grooves' singing voice. It was an accident, but he doesn't regret it 💫 Empress would be nicer if everyone taught her how to do the things they are able to do (Like MoonJumper's arts and crafts, for example) 💫 The moon penguins got to know each other thanks to Grooves, and they'll always be grateful to have him as a friend 💫 The express owls already knew each other before meeting Connie 💫 The express owls know that Connie isn't really as mean as he pretends to be, and they all care for him 💫 Hattie's bed is not hers anymore. It was completely invaded by the kids and she now mostly sleeps in her pillow fort 💫 Split Nessa is more unorganized than Gen Nessa, since her appereance doesn't really matter anymore 💫 Snatch stole everyone's left socks at some point 💫 Split Snatch and MoonJumper have an ant farm and they love every single one of their ants 💫 Connie and Grooves will overdramatize everything since they wanna be actors, no matter how mudane the situation is 💫 Mafia Bab once tried to "kidnap" Mu by trying to block her way with chairs. It did not work 💫 To join the mafia you must shave your hair since "Mafia boss is only mafia member allowed to have hair" 💫 Split Snatch and Moonjumper can't be found separated from each other. If you see one of them alone, the other must be nearby 💫 Nessa is usually very polite and shy, but once she's comfortable around you she can become a little bratty 💫 Everyone thinks Split Snatch is adorable and he hates it 💫 Empress doesn't like to play in mud 💫 After being defeated in his "boss battle", Snatch became so exhausted he accidentaly fell asleep on Hattie 💫 MoonJumper loves to swim and play with water 💫 Snatch on the other side, hates water and it's a pain to force him to bath 💫 Empress was supossed to get temporary glasses after her eye got scarred but she refused, and will refuse for the rest of her life 💫 Every kid has called Hattie "Mom" at least once. Most of them are accidents tho 💫 Nessa is the only one who hasn't called Hattie "Mom" by accident because they're all on purpose 💫 Shapeshifter is one of the kids Connie considers an "enemy" since the day they tricked him into giving them his nuggies 💫 Shapeshifter also wants to be an actor like Connie and Grooves, but their shyness wont let them even practice 💫 The Prince from the Split timeline was a Gemini 💫 Every mafia kid wants to be an actual mafioso when they grow up, except for one, who wants to be a paranormal investigator 💫 Despite wanting to be a paranormal investigator, this particular mafia kid is afraid of paranormal stuff. He's trying his best tho.... I'm talking about Goofy Mafia obviously- 💫 The Subcon trio once played 'Kingdom' and Nessa got to play as queen. They never played this game again 💫 Mafia bab and Goofy Mafia were the most hurt by Mu's betrayal, and yet, they were the first kids to forgive her 💫 Snatch was caught trying to steal Hattie's cereal once. Instead of giving it back like a normal child, he started to run yelling it was HIS cereal now 💫 Empress used to like theater until she learned it was for "nerds" 💫 Split Snatch is not an actual ghost despite being like one. He still has to eat, sleep, breath and has a heartbeat 💫 How are babies made? This is a question only Badge knows the answer to 💫 Mafia bab and Goofy Mafia love pizza but the other Mafia kids like hamburguer better 💫 Connie can, and will bite your legs if you make him mad, wich is very often so you better wear long pants 💫 It's very hard to make Grooves mad, but if you do, he'll give you the silent treatment 💫 When Snatch gets sick he will either take full advantage of the situation or pretend he's perfectly fine and push himself to his limit 💫 Mafia bab to Empress: What do you MEAN theater is for nerds??? 💫 Shapeshifter likes to hang out with the penguins and Grooves the most 💫 After a while, Snatch learned that calling any of the alien gals "mom" is the ultimate manipulative move 💫Goofy Mafia and Mafia bab, despite having pretty much opossite personalities, get along so well to the point of being considered best friends 💫 Mafia bab somehow recognizes and knows the names of every single one of the Mafia kids 💫 Mu subconsciously plays favorites. She can't help it, she has to take care of almost 100 kids, if not more 💫 Nessa has a small crush on Snatch. The feeling is, sadly, not mutual 💫 Snatch snatches Nessa's crown sometimes. He likes to pretend he's a king 💫 Mu's cape looks REALLY messy and it's mostly an amalgamate of stitches and fabric. That's because Mafia made it. It was a Mafia gift 💫 Goofy Mafia's other best friend is Thor. Thor would like it better if he spoke like a normal person tho 💫 Bow is a GREAT actress. She can save entire shows with the power of her presence alone 💫 The reason Snatch is more afraid of Victoria than MJ is because he was the closest to being caught. This means he got to see her eyes and the cold stare she always carries with them 💫 This may sound ironic but Snatch strongly dislikes snowball fights. He'd rather build a snowman while drinking hot cocoa 💫The only way Snatch and Empress get along is when it's winter and neither of them want to go outside 💫 Shapeshifter and Empress both have a massive sweet tooth 💫 Thor eventually manages to break Goofy Mafia's habit of speaking in third person. The Mafia kids are confused and Mafia bab is scared 💫 When Nessa gained a lot more confidence, she started to show public affection towards Snatch with the sole purpose of making him flustered. He hates it 💫 Thor can tell when Mafia bab breaks his stuff on accident, even if he tries to pretend it was on purpose. He can identify when he's nervious or guilty 💫 When Split Snatch gets REALLY mad, he burts into flames. The Fire spirits love when this happens 💫 When someone dies, they are given the options of going to the afterlife, stay as a Subconite if they feel like they died before it was their time, or stay as a Dweller to guard the forest if they don't have any issues left but want to be helpful 💫 The Dwellers don't remember their past life, since it'd get in the way of their duties. However, they can feel conections to those who were close to them 💫 If you were really REALLY close to a Dweller when they were alive, they might give you a flower 💫 A particular Dweller gave Nessa a flower once. She was really confused but felt the need to keep it anyways 💫 The swamp tries to drown Hattie at first, for she is an intruder. However the forest eventually warms up to her and stops trying to harm her 💫 Even if the forest didn't warm up to her it would've made no difference since the Subcon trio likes her 💫 The forest also may or may not be a little jealous of the kids' attachment to Hattie. Especially the Split timeline's forest 💫 Goofy Mafia learned about the types of cables and what they're useful for against his will. Guess who taught him 💫 Thor learned about far away planets and the life forms they might contain against his will. G u e s s w h o- 💫 Empress calls Snatch adorable nicknames like 'Marshmallow'. Don't missunderstand, she does this in a mocking way with the sole purpose of making him mad 💫 When Snatch and Empress fight, it's never certain who will win. The Mafia kids like to bet when it happens in front of them 💫 Split Snatch can sing decently. He usually gets the notes right, but he's not a great singer either, so he almost never sings. Gen Snatch's voice cracks every time he tries 💫 Star kid is a very good writter. They make whole stories by their own and sometimes help Grooves with the creation of his songs 💫 Goofy Mafia actually, geniuenly needs his weird swirled glasses to see 💫 Thor convinces Goofy Mafia to be as nerdy as he wants to be. Being a "cool boy" is overrated anyways 💫 The one thing Mu succesfully taught Mafia bab is that beating kids that can't or won't fight back is stupid. It's not like you win something from it. It's not even fun 💫 Snatch is surprisingly good at strategy videogames. One would think he'd mindlessly go for the strongest attack in rpgs, but he doesn't 💫 Goofy Mafia can, and will kick your butt in racing games like Mario kart 💫 Empress is a natural in fighting games. She knows and plays games she really shouldn't. Like Mortal Kombat 💫 Thor and MJ prefer games where you build and take care of a place 💫 Empress is great at biology. She knows body parts, functions and where to stike to kill you. She doesn't want to be grounded for life tho, so don't worry too much about it 💫 Hattie interrupted a Mafia theater play once. The options she inmediately thought about for that situation were -Say sorry and leave -Play dead -Sweat a lot and stand there awkwardly 💫 Thor can be VERY sassy when he wants to be 💫 Goofy Mafia eventually learns about the power of sass thanks to local goggle boy. He barely uses that himself tho 💫 One of Snatch's biggest dreams is to bite Victoria's ankles 💫 Goofy Mafia makes sure that everything "behind scenes" goes without problem at the Mafia theater when there's a play. He even has a checklist 💫 The checklist is actually nothing but scribbles no one except him can understand 💫 Hattie started a "Too self-conscious to act/sing in front of crowds" club to try and help some kids and herself to be more confident in that aspect 💫 Since Goofy Mafia is like the theater's manager he rarely acts in plays. But he's surprisingly good at playing villains. This confuses E V E R Y O N E, no exceptions 💫 Thor often visits Alpine Skyline when he gets tired of being in Mafia Town. He does this especially when he's working on small projects that don't require big tools or too much material 💫 Little Grooves tried to befriend Empress once. Keyword Tried 💫 Caw agents are the type of children that will carefully observe their toys to see if they move after watching Toy Story 💫 Mu hesitated for a second in The Finale when she saw that both Goofy Mafia and Mafia bab were scared of her 💫 Caw agents often say the same thing at the same time when talking to someone else. No one knows how they do it 💫 Caw agents can be described as 'those kids everyone says are weird, but secretly think they're cool' 💫 Warm weather: Nessa, Empress, Snatch, Connie, MJ, Starkid, Express owls, Hattie, most Mafia kids, Mafia bab 💫 Cold weather: Mu, Grooves, Moon Penguins, Caw agents, Goofy Mafia, Thor, Cookie, Cap'n Warlus and his crew 💫 Both are good: Shapeshifter, Badge, Bow, The Nomads, Nyakuza cats 💫 Nessa spaces out often when not in the manor. Don't laugh at her if she crashes into something or someone when walking, it's already embarasing enough 💫 Badge may not talk much but when they do it's always something wise or confusing that leaves people thinking. Goofy Mafia loves it 💫 Just so you know, wise and confusing can also mean out of place and things kids shouldn't know yet 💫 Badge likes snakes and snakes like them back 💫 Nessa doesn't know how to write things other than her name. Her mother told her that's the only thing she needs to know how to write so she can sign stuff 💫 Split Snatch taught his Nessa how to write. Gen Snatch tried with his, but he's more impatient 💫 Victoria moves similar to a snake when mad. Her massive hair starts moving slightly like tentacles, giving her a medusa-like look. What makes it so scary is that she remains calm and calculating when moving like that 💫 Nessa hates her name. There's people who actually believe her name is Nessa and not Vanessa because she never introduces herself like that 💫 Don't forget that despite that, Nessa is still Vanessa in a sense. She can get REALLY clingy. They're working on it 💫 Mafia kids are REALLY strong. They can take a lot of damage and hit hard 💫 Goofy Mafia is not strong. At all. He is however w a y more agile than the other Mafia kids 💫 Thor doesn't find Mafia bab as annoying when he's geniuenly thinking and trying to understand something. It's even endearing sometimes 💫 Cookie is, unsurprisingly, not very good at acting. But she sometimes plays secondary characters in Mafia plays, since some of those characters might need a more unique look and Mafia kids can't provide that all the time 💫 Empress, after a l o t of self-convincing attended one of the "nerd plays" to see Cookie act, and saw how she rarely fit her roles 💫 Cookie expected Empress to regain at least a little bit of her former love for theater with the play she attended to. She didn't 💫Mafia bab once told Goofy Mafia that he would teach him how to be tough. He didn't believe him, and it didn't really work anyway. If anything it was Thor who taught how to be tough 💫 Empress forces the Nyakuza cats to watch Cookie's cooking tutorials. They ended up liking them so it's not that bad 💫 in stressful situations Goofy Mafia will often hide behind Mafia bab. If he doesn't then Mafia bab will automatically put himself in front of him, so it might as well just happen 💫 Subcon's favorite holiday is halloween. They adore it and will put a lot of attention to detail. Even the queen enjoys some parts of it 💫 The reason Victoria enjoys some of it is because she chooses a group of random people to terrorize all night 💫 The candy for halloween is not for the children. It's for the people Victoria keeps up all night, and it's their decision if they wanna share it with children 💫 Mu actually lives in a cave. She can actually get a normal home, but the cave is cooler and bigger 💫 Mafia was not born in "Mafia Town". One beautiful night Mu woke up to find 100+ children, all of them asleep in boats 💫 If you ask Thor what the worst day of his life was, he'd tell you it was day he woke up to a bunch of random children running around in the usually pacific and quiet town, only to have one of them yell at the top of his lungs that they were staying 💫 Shape can be very forgetful sometimes. Don't call them out if they say "happy birthday" 10 times on your birthday

[delimeful]

Delimeful’s Sanders Sides Writing Masterpost

Chaptered Works

the shapes in the silence: a pre-AA AU where Virgil transforms into a miniature dragon when stressed and is promptly adopted by the light sides.   

AO3 Link | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | 

watch it burn and rust: a space AU where Patton finds himself trapped in a cell with one of the most infamous and bloodthirsty deathworlders out there, a Human. 

WIBAR ACT ONE:

AO3 Link | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 |

WIBAR INTERMISSION:

Making Adjustments: Virgil gets used to life aboard the Mindscape, and the crew gets used to him. Gradually. 

AO3 Link | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 |

Cultural Differences:  After one too many unfortunate misunderstandings, Logan requests that Virgil meet with him to discuss Human culture. They both learn new things about each other.

AO3 Link | Story |

Night Terrors: Roman and Virgil are left alone on the ship unsupervised for the night. Things go better than expected, somehow.

AO3 Link | Story |

New Friends: A routine trade with another ship turns dangerous when raiders turn up. Unfortunately for them, there happens to be a Human onboard that doesn’t take kindly to threats against his family. 

AO3 Link | Story |

WIBAR ACT TWO:

let my mind reset: Roman finds himself in deep trouble relating to his past, which means the resident Human is the last person he wants around.

Unfortunately, the resident Human didn't seem to get the memo. 

AO3 Link | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 |

WIBAR EXTRAS:

Height Chart | Cast Description | Patton’s Charms | 

WIBAR Snapshots: A series of short bonus scenes taking place at various points during the timeline of the 'watch it burn and rust' series! 

AO3 Link | Cleanse | Release |

WIBAR AUs: 

the end of being alone: A WIBAR AU (that’s right, an AU of an AU) where the circumstances of Virgil’s introduction to the group– or rather, Virgil himself– are… a little different. Kid!Virgil.

AO3 Link | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 |

how easy you are to need: A lone werewolf finds three humans settling into the abandoned cabin on his territory, and somehow manages to get attached.   

AO3 Link | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 |

how easy you are to need (redux): A lone werewolf finds three humans settling into the abandoned cabin on his territory, and somehow manages to get attached.   

-

A rewrite & continuation of the original HEYATN fic.

AO3 Link | Chapter 1 | 

be unbroken or be brave again: Tracked down by an obnoxious and determined knight, a Dragonwitch and his closest friend are drawn into a mystery they thought they'd left behind. Dragonwitch Virgil AU

AO3 Link | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 |

a mourning dove: A tiny winged borrower living in a forest hideaway, Logan is interested in human technology despite all the terrible tales about humans themselves. After running into a forgetful college student, he ends up striking a surprisingly steadfast friendship. G/T

AO3 Link | Chapter 1 |

not always what they seem: A space AU where the light sides are aliens working with new specimens, ones that might be more sapient than they originally assumed. G/T

AO3 Link | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | 

cut clean from the dream: Logan is a captured fairy, stuck in a bottle on the shelf of a potions shop. Virgil is an unlucky apprentice witch who needs fairy wings for his next assignment. Things turn out better than either of them could have expected. G/T 

AO3 Link | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Complete!

helpless: Virgil stumbles into some trouble in his forest, and then someone new stumbles into him. 

Drider!Virgil AU. Platonic DRLAMP

AO3 Link | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | 

hold my body down: Roman and Virgil are a two-person adventuring party stopping in a small barter town for the evening. He enters town expecting a night of rest at the inn, perhaps a few stories from the local bard, and exits as part of a cult-like ritual sacrifice to a silent giant. Then things get strange. G/T

AO3 Link | Part 1 | Part 2 |

to taste your beating heart: Inducted into a coven of bloodthirsty vampires with no memories of his life before, Virgil has been assured that there was nothing left for him in his human life, that being turned was a mercy for a human as pathetic as he had been. 

However, when he goes out for his first solo hunt, the last thing he expects when he pins his target, a man dressed in blue and grey, is for him to call him by name, recognition clear in his eyes. The second-to-last thing he expects is for the kind-eyed man to turn out to be a hunter of all things, and turn the tables on him. 

Now captured with none of his clan knowing where he is, Virgil faces the three hunters that seem convinced they know him and wonders if maybe there’s more to the story.

(Warning for Villain/Pre-AA Virgil)

AO3 Link | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 |

my virtues uncounted: The Light Sides find themselves stuck in the subconscious, where everything is huge, including the Dark Sides that reside there. Anxiety finding them at such a diminished size seemed like the worst possible outcome, but as they spend more time around him, they find themselves wondering if maybe he's got their best interests in mind after all. G/T

AO3 Link | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | 

sheer atrocity: Prince Roman has been sent on his ritual journey to slay a giant and prove himself worthy to be a true slayer for his kingdom... or die trying. 

Too bad his giant has something different in mind. G/T

AO3 Link | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 |

(dont) take this the wrong way: Local shark mer Roman finds a tiny mermaid tangled up in a net in his territory, and enlists his siren friend Patton's help to find a way to free the little guy. Unfortunately for Logan, they end up 'borrowing' a human to assist them in untangling the net. Virgil just wants to get out of this nightmare of a situation. G/T

AO3 Link | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | 

pull apart at the seams: In a world where humans are tiny and giants keep them as pets, Virgil finds himself bought by three giant werewolves, who are varying levels of enthusiastic about his presence. G/T

warnings: darker tone, jerk giants, people treated as pets

AO3 Link | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | 

Minecraft AU: Exactly what it says on the tin. Sanders Sides/Minecraft crossover. I offer no apologies.  

AO3 Link | Ender | Spider | Brewer | Adventurer | Healer | Builder |

Oneshots

Repressed: A pre-AA AU where Virgil shrinks down to five inches when Thomas represses him. This goes badly once the others find out. G/T

AO3 Link | Story | Ask Blog

the littlest mermaid: Virgil investigates a strange noise on his walk home and gets more than he bargained for. G/T

AO3 Link | Story

magical mutualism: Logan summons a demon to help him get into a magical institute. Surprisingly, nobody loses their soul in the process.

AO3 Link | Story

amateur matchmakers: After being friends with them for over a year, Virgil learns that Roman and Patton aren’t, in fact, dating. Analogical, Royality

AO3 Link | Story

stemming the tide: Patton comes across an ancient mer and makes a bargain... and a friend? Based off this art by smalldrops! Platonic logicality, G/T

AO3 Link | Story

community gardens: Logan first met his best friend because he was investigating rumors of a human lurking around the border of his forest. Platonic intrulogical, G/T

AO3 Link | Story

you will see a better day: Remus has a Bad Day. The others are there to help him through it, if he’ll let them. Canonverse, platonic DRLAMP

AO3 Link | Story

as the fabric starts to fray: It’s just another routine bank robbery to foil. Until it’s not. Platonic dukexiety, Superhero AU.

AO3 Link | Story

failed bounties and fresh bonds: He’d only snuck down to the town because he’d wanted to see the lights that had been strung up in the streets. He wasn’t sure what they were for, but they were bright and beautiful.

He hadn’t meant to get so close. He hadn’t meant to be caught. Platonic dukexiety, G/T

AO3 Link | Story 

leave your shaded hollow: Virgil meets the most terrifying creature of his life. 

Logan makes a friend. Mer AU, platonic analogical, G/T

AO3 Link | Story

BTHB (Bad Things Happen Bingo) Fills

or set your teeth against my throat: Captured and put on display by arrogant bloodsuckers, Roman begins to lose hope that he'll ever get to see his small but tight-knit pack again. 

Who would have thought that a strange, sympathetic vampire would be the one to restore that hope? Prompt: Defeated and Trophified  

AO3 Link | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 |

taking the fall: When an indoor borrower is seen they're supposed to move out. Not push a outdoor borrower into the sink and literally make them take fall for them.

So how’d Virgil end up in this sink. Prompt: Framed

AO3 Link | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | 

breathing cleaner air: Roman enters the woods as a knight and prince of his kingdom, hunting a dangerous creature for the good of them all.

He leaves the woods... different. Prompt: Painful Transformation

AO3 Link | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | 

neither calm nor quiet: Virgil's first voyage back on land in years starts off no-good and swiftly takes a turn for the horrible. 

After being 'rescued' by a local columnist, however, he finds the beginning of something not-entirely-awful. Prompt: Caught in a Net 

AO3 Link | Story

you cant go back: Abandoned by his crewmates, Virgil finds himself stranded on one of the most famous and bloodthirsty deathworlds out there: Earth. 

Meanwhile, Roman finds an alien in his barn. Prompt: Locked Up and Left Behind

AO3 Link | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 |

in sickness and in health: Virgil is a borrower, which means that he already has plenty of work to do in his day to day life. He could wish for a lot of things to make life easier: better heating, a less clumsy human neighbor, another borrower living nearby to talk to.

He distinctly didn’t wish for the human that lives next to his walls to get horribly sick and refuse to tell anyone, but it happened anyways.

Virgil is the only one around who could possibly help. And really, what are the odds that a deeply-feverish human will remember him? Prompt: Hiding an Illness

AO3 Link | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | 

nothing in this world (i wouldn’t do): The first thing Virgil felt when he woke up was hunger.

It was like a gnawing pit in his stomach, deep and painful. The hunger was useful, informative— it told him how weak he was.

Something else, a shivering primal thing in the back of his mind, told him how dangerous being weak was.

or

A lot of things change when Virgil becomes a demon. His utter refusal to ever hurt his brother is not one of them. Prompt: Self Loathing

AO3 Link | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 |

down that desolate road: He’d only turned away for a moment. There had been a distant sound, like something scraping harshly against rock, and Virgil was chronically incapable of ignoring weird noises, so he’d paused to listen. When he’d turned back, the others had vanished, leaving him alone in the center of a maze of caverns. All he’d heard when he called was his own voice, echoing back to him eerily.

or

Everything falls apart around him. Virgil is going to fix it, even if it takes everything he has in the process. Prompt: Ambush

AO3 Link | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | 

October 2019 G/T Prompts [List] 

Day 1: Fear / Day 2: Cage / Day 3: Outside / Day 4: Moon / Day 5: Rat / Day 6: Pocket / Day 7: Fairytale / Day 8: Switched / Day 9: Alone / Day 10: Broken / Day 11: Underwater / Day 12: Giant / Day 13: Shake / Day 14: Pet / Day 15: Control / Day 16: Alien / Day 17: Roasted / Day 18: Fang / Day 19: Trap / Day 20: Grow / Day 21: Bean / Day 22: Candy / Day 24: Blood / Day 25: Hiding / Day 26: Doll / 

February 2020 Prompts [List]

Day 1: Ideal / Day 2: Deaf / 

Flash Fiction Prompts: 

Bond / Switched... 2! / Mend / 

[lady-divine-writes]

Trust (Rated NC17)

Summary: After close to a decade of not seeing one another, a box shows up at Aziraphale's bookshop, its contents a reminder of emotional wounds ...

... and a cry for help. (4931 words)

Notes: So yeah, apparently I lied when I said I was finished writing au's based off of @whiteleyfoster's 'Prince of Omens'. This idea hit me quite out of the blue, that by creating the Prince of Omens au, it sort of altered the timeline of the original story, which then led me to imagine filling in the gaps of history with stories starring this version of the characters. This takes place, I would say, sometime between the Blitz and the 60s, which may have fed into some of the decisions taken place by the characters between that time. Plus, I thought it was a very romantic, touching, and hot moment for the two of them, being sniffed out by Hell. Anyway, let me know what you all think <3

Read on AO3.

Please say you trust me.

Those are the only words written on the gold card tucked inside the box that shows up at Aziraphale’s bookshop on Thursday afternoon, packed alongside a few other choice items: a white blindfold, a pair of golden handcuffs, and a hotel room key. There’s no return address on the box, no name on the card, only the initials AJC.

But Aziraphale didn’t need those.

He knew.

Before he opened the box and saw its contents, he knew who’d sent it.

He could sense Crowley’s magical signature all over it.

Aziraphale examines the contents for a long while, his heart pounding in his chest. They’re not a random collection of offerings. Aside from how Crowley means them, each one is symbolic.

The white blindfold harks back to the ribbon that has become so sacred to Crowley - the one Aziraphale tied around the plant he gave the demon back in Egypt.

The meaning behind the cuffs comes from around that same time.

Standing on the banks of the Red Sea, watching Moses tend to his flock of the faithful as they readied themselves for the journey on, Crowley had gazed across the water in the direction they’d come, the bitterest, sweetest expression of sorrow on his handsome face.

“What is it, my dear?” Aziraphale had asked. “Why do you seem so melancholy? All’s well that ends well, don’t you think?”

“How is it,” he’d said, staring at the water, unable to look Aziraphale in the eye, “that I can continue to be such a tremendous failure?”

“How can you say that!? None of these people would have been able to escape Pharaoh if not for you! You’re a hero!”

“But just as many lost their lives because of me! Because I was too arrogant to be specific with my instructions! But that’s just who I am … what I do …”

“No, my dear …” Aziraphale put a hand on his arm “… that’s not true at all. Stop saying that … please …”

Crowley turned to Aziraphale but with eyes shut, unable to take his kindness, accept his sympathy.

“It’s humbling. They showered me with riches, built me a temple. I’d planted myself as a God among them so I could stir up a little mischief, but they tempted me. And like an idiot, I fell for it.” Crowley shook his head. “To be brought to my knees, have that torn away … it makes me realize what I really am. What I’ve been all along.”

“Lesson learned then,” Aziraphale said. Crowley’s eyes snapped open, heartbreak dulling their shimmering gold depths. “Because you are what you should be. And that’s free.”

Crowley’s brow furrowed. “W-what do you mean?”

“The temple, those clothes, the gold - they had strings attached. They kept you beholden to Pharaoh. Turned you into a slave.” Aziraphale shifted Crowley’s gaze away from the water and aimed it towards the land, to the people gathered there. “By doing what you did, helping these people, enduring, suffering … you’re not a slave anymore. Not to Pharaoh. You’re free.”

Aziraphale recalls those words, the smile they’d brought to Crowley’s face, the embrace that followed, the dozen kisses and more … and he frowns.

Because where it’s true that Crowley freed himself from Egypt, he’s still a servant.

As is Aziraphale.

They’re both in the same boat - conscripted to a higher power that commands their moves, often using them as pawns.

Or worse.

As toys.

And they play with them the way spoiled children do.

Roughly.

If they break, Heaven and Hell will consign them to the bottom of the toy box and find new angels and demons to replace them.

Aziraphale has a sinking suspicion that’s part of what’s going on now - Hell commanding its servant, holding his feet to the fire. But to do what, Aziraphale hasn’t a clue.

The words written on the card are a linchpin.

Please say you trust me.

Aziraphale had said something similar to Crowley when they’d made love in his temple and he’d used his precious white ribbon on him as a blindfold.

Crowley repeated the sentiment back to him when God sent Death to reap the first born. Death would have reaped Crowley, too, if not for Aziraphale. Crowley promised he would try to save the innocent but that Aziraphale needed to have faith in him.

Aziraphale said - “Always, my dear.”

Faith.

Trust.

Aziraphale and Crowley had known one another for 2500 years by the time they met up in Egypt, but it was during that time that Aziraphale truly learned to trust Crowley. Crowley had been gifted Aziraphale’s trust during the years they spent watching over Moses. He lost it, but earned it back in spades. Since then, he’s run to Aziraphale’s rescue time and time again, saving him from beheadings, bombings …

… re-assignment.

And despite this cloak-and-dagger, Aziraphale trusts Crowley now.  

Aziraphale didn’t know Crowley was in town. They hadn’t seen one another in close to a decade. Aziraphale knew Crowley would turn up one of these days, but not like this.

He holds out hope the objects in the box are for pleasure, but he’s sure they’re for business. Trust or no, that makes him nervous. He doesn’t like not knowing what’s in store for him. The real torture will be in waiting, guessing.

But, luckily, not too long.

Aziraphale finds out the following night.

He had no idea when Crowley would call for him. He’d hoped Crowley would come for him himself - show up on his doorstep in a smart black suit, all seductive secrets and sly smiles.

A car comes for him instead, driven by a human chauffeur.

A block away from the hotel, he senses them.

Demons.

Lots of them.

Lurking around corners, hiding in the shadows, ducking out of sight.

Watching him arrive.

Even on this main thoroughfare bustling with people, there are more demons around than he’s ever felt in a single place.

His body goes cold.

“Long night?” Aziraphale asks the driver, making small talk to keep his mind off of whatever’s waiting for him ahead. It feels like a trap, every molecule of his celestial form screaming at him to get out of the car and run, that he’s been betrayed. But he can’t think like that. Crowley wouldn’t put him in harm’s way.

He has to believe heart and soul he wouldn’t.

Especially not after that note.

Please say you trust me.

“You could say that.”

“Where are you headed after this, my dear?”

“I’ve been hired on for the night by the blokes who hired me to get you,” the man says, peeking at Aziraphale through the rear view. “Good thing, too. Heaven knows I need the money.”

“Hard times, hmm?”

“It’s my daughter Liza,” the man says with a lump in his throat. “She’s come down sick. The doctors here don’t know what to do for her. We’re hoping to take her to the states. We’ve heard there are doctors there that can help her.”

“I see.” Aziraphale scans the streets around them. Something doesn’t feel right (on top of everything else that already doesn’t feel right). Evil clings to this man, though, in his heart, he is good.

It’s not him, Aziraphale discovers as he reaches out with his angelic senses. It’s the company he keeps. He’s been hired by demons. Not Crowley but others. They’ve promised him a great deal of money to be their errand boy - escort prostitutes around the city and deliver some dangerous packages to some powerful people.

But they have no intention of paying him.

Because he will not survive the night.

He’s disposable. A nobody in the grand scheme. That’s why they hired him. That’s what the demons are counting on - cruel since demons can masquerade as humans and do their own dirty work.

But it’s loads more fun to trick some unsuspecting mortal to do it for them.

In the end, after he’s taken part in some shady deals (unbeknownst to him) they’ll have his soul for Hell. It’s a demonic loophole. (They have enough lawyers to ensure them it’s sound.) And even though Aziraphale wants to maintain a low profile, he can’t let this happen.

The chauffeur pulls up to the curb in front of The Savoy and puts his car into park.

“Here we are,” he says, looking over his shoulder at Aziraphale. “Do you need help up to your room or …?”

“Not at all, young man.” Aziraphale reaches into his pocket and pulls out a rolled-up wad of notes bound together by a rubber band. The driver waits patiently for Aziraphale to count out his tip. His eyes blow wide when Aziraphale hands him the entire thing.

“I … are you serious, sir?”

“Yes,” Aziraphale says with a smile. “For a job well done. Best ride I’ve had in ages.”

“I … I can’t accept this!” the man says, an expression of pain passing over his face as a voice in his head - probably his wife’s - screams, ‘Yes, you can, you idiot! Don’t argue!’ “I only drove you twelve city blocks!”

“You can accept it, and you will.” Aziraphale snaps his fingers, using a little angelic magic to cease any more arguing. “And now you’re going to drive straight home, pack your family up, and head to the airport. Get on board TWA flight 530 to Los Angeles, and get your daughter well.”

A second snap of his fingers sees to that. Liza will greet her father at the door to their humble flat completely cancer free. But Aziraphale needs to get him and his family out of town. He knows what will happen when the demons discover this man has skipped out on his duties.

Needless to say, they won’t be happy.

“Thank you, sir! I … I don’t know how I could ever re-pay you!”

“I do. Forget you ever saw me. And forget the men who hired you.” Aziraphale snaps one last time, gets out of the car, and heads for the front door. He pauses when he hears the car pull away from the curb, watching it drive off into the night. If a demon ever does manage to catch up with him, they should be able to tell that his mind has been wiped by an angel. That and the fact that he’s blessed should keep them off his back.

Aziraphale shows his key to the doorman, who directs him to the room he needs. He declines any more offers of help and continues on alone.

For a Friday night, it’s pretty mellow at The Savoy. Most everyone is out on the town, living it up. Which means no one notices the middle-aged man in the cream-colored coat slip down the hallway and take the elevator to the top floor.

No one will notice if he disappears.

He starts out with shoulders squared and head held high, carrying the box Crowley sent him tucked under one arm. But as he walks down the quiet hall, the demonic smell growing stronger and more pungent with every step, the box creeps out from underneath his arm to his chest where he hugs it close.

He stops in front of the door and fits the key in the lock, his hands shaking as he does. He breathes out slowly, counts to three. He hasn’t even unlocked the door but he feels him on the other side.

Crowley.

In this room.

Waiting for him.

Crowley summoned him here and now Aziraphale is about to turn himself over to him.

Him and about a dozen other demons.

His heart double-thumps with excitement.

His head swims with fear.

He unlocks the door, pushes it open.

It opens unto darkness.

“Hello?” he calls inside, reluctant to take a step in but he knows he must.

Please say you trust me.

Those words ring in his ears. They aren’t simple words, not easy. They have weight to them, a history.

They’re a plea.

It’s not until he closes the door behind him that he notices Crowley’s silhouette standing beside the foot of a large bed over by the window.

The door locks behind him without him touching it.

It’s more than a bit unsettling.

Aziraphale walks over to the bed and sets the box down .

“Crowley?” he says, waiting for the demon to acknowledge his arrival in any way. Aziraphale wants to rush into his arms, kiss him on the mouth, whisper words of love against his skin.

But a voice in his mind tells him this isn’t the time for that.

It’s ridiculous. He knows he’s in very real danger of being discorporated but he can’t help noticing … Crowley looks stunning. He’s been growing his hair out. It’s not long yet, but it’s not short either. It’s just long enough for Aziraphale to run his fingers through, wind the strands around and pull him close. He’s dressed for bed - barefoot, black pajama pants, and shirtless, the planes of his chest and his flat stomach on enticing display. Even his scar - that horrible scar from Aziraphale’s flaming sword - looks delicious in this low light.

Positively kissable.

And he’s not wearing his glasses. Not hiding his eyes.

Though he’s never had to hide his eyes from Aziraphale.

Crowley doesn’t look at Aziraphale as the angel inches closer, eyes searching his face for an explanation. Aziraphale gets within touching distance, but Crowley takes a step away.

“Take off your clothes,” he commands.

“Wh-what?”

“What’s wrong, principality? Did I stutter?”

“No,” Aziraphale says, fighting to maintain a composure that’s a feather’s touch away from shattering like a plate glass window, “you didn’t. But I …”

“Then be a good little angel and obey. Maybe you haven’t noticed but you’re not the one in control. You have no power here.”

Snickers travel around the room and from the strangest of locations: in a closet, under the bed, on the ceiling. Aziraphale doesn’t look up to check. If there is a demon hanging from the chandelier above him, he’d rather not see it with his own eyes.

Stunned into silence like Crowley slapped him in the face, Aziraphale slips off his coat and lays it on the bed, then reaches for his shirt. With every button he undoes, his mind reels, searching for a solution. From the smell of this place, there are demons everywhere - in the room, in the hallway, on the street outside. So running is not an option. He could miracle his way out, but that would cause a paper trail he’d have to explain to Gabriel, which would lead to three possible outcomes: one - Gabriel reprimands Aziraphale for the use of a frivolous miracle (because, apparently, saving himself is considered frivolous); two - this incident starts a battle with Hell, which may not end well for Earth as a whole; or three - Gabriel presses Hell for answers and Hell offers up Crowley as a sacrifice.

Aziraphale can’t risk hurting Crowley any more than he could risk hurting Earth. Plus, that would leave Crowley at the mercy of Hell since his mission would have failed.

Aziraphale has no choice but to play along and hope that an explanation comes to light.

He’ll keep you safe. He won’t hurt you. He’ll explain this to you. Trust him.

“Everything,” Crowley says when Aziraphale stops at his pants, his voice undeniably softer when he says, “I want to see everything.”

That softness, more than anything, encourages Aziraphale on.

When Aziraphale has completely undressed, Crowley approaches. His eyes - a serpent’s eyes from rim to rim where they’d normally appear a bit more human - are uncharacteristically unforgiving, but Aziraphale doesn’t miss the subtle once over Crowley gives him, how it causes him to miss a step.

Crowley reaches out a hand. Aziraphale thinks he’s reaching for him, his body starving for his touch. For a second, Crowley seems to consider it. But he grabs the box instead. He opens it, exposing its contents. He reaches inside and pulls out the golden handcuffs. He grabs Aziraphale’s wrists, locking them in front of him.

“C-Crowley? What’s going on?” Aziraphale asks, starting to get nervous, the other demons in the room an ominous presence even though he doesn’t see them. “You’re going a bit fast for me.”

Crowley leads Aziraphale to the bed, maneuvers him like a dog on a leash by the chain of those handcuffs, has him climb up on it and kneel on the mattress. Then he takes Aziraphale by the chin and stares deep into his eyes. “Pay attention, principality, because I won’t tell you again.” Crowley starts to speak, posturing on about how Aziraphale is his prisoner, how he’s there to serve him, please him, bend to his whims. Aziraphale hears him, his words playing in the corner of his mind like a scratchy record on an ancient gramophone, warped and skipping, out of tune.

But what he hears louder than that are the words Crowley projects to the forefront of his brain.

Words that tremble, steeped in fear.

‘I need your help, angel. Please? Do what I say? They’re watching.’

Aziraphale sees Crowley gulp, feels his own throat ache with the bob of his Adam’s apple.

Crowley’s power is fueled by his imagination. That’s one of the things that makes him unique among demons. Aziraphale and Crowley had discovered long ago that he can make Aziraphale hear whatever he wants him to hear, even over long distances.

He’s using that power now to communicate with him.

‘I know you feel them. I can’t explain but I promise, I won’t let them hurt you. I swear it.’

Crowley takes the blindfold out of the box and starts tying it over Aziraphale’s eyes.

‘I … I don’t understand, Crowley,’ Aziraphale thinks, knowing Crowley will hear.

‘I’ll explain later but please … please say you trust me.’

Aziraphale nods. ‘Always, my dear.’

‘And no matter what I say … know that I love you.’

‘I do.’

Crowley knots the blindfold twice - once to secure it, a second time to stall, giving him a moment to gather the courage he needs to say what’s coming next.

‘I need to compel your wings. They want to see them. They want to see me … force you to reveal them.’

Aziraphale shudders, memories of having his wings ripped into existence by other demons flooding his thoughts.

Crowley sees. His hands ball into fists.

Having one’s wings compelled can be an uncomfortable, even painful business.

It’s also the ultimate humiliation.

But for Crowley, Aziraphale would do practically anything.

‘Of course. Just … be careful.’

‘I will,” Crowley promises, his voice thick with curses and a deep hatred of himself that Aziraphale can’t help but feel. He wishes he could put a comforting hand on his shoulder and give him strength.

With any luck, there will be time for that later.

Aziraphale breathes in deep, trying to relax when he sees Crowley raise a hand. Aziraphale closes his eyes, surrenders control of his wings to Crowley, telling himself it will be okay.

He’s with Crowley. His Crowley. The Crowley he’s known and loved for thousands of years. They’ll get past this hurdle, attack the next.

They’ll get through this together.

The pinch in his shoulder blades feels all too familiar and almost sends him into a panic. He recedes deeper into himself, reminds himself of better times he’s had with Crowley in bed. The room goes silent, the demons observing on the edge of their seats, captivated by the events unfolding in front of them. In the midst of that silence, Aziraphale can hear his own heartbeat.

Immediately following, he hears Crowley’s.

Then their breathing mixed together, the mingling of it bringing a wash of calm to Aziraphale’s mind. A blue glow builds beneath his skin, filling the room, casting eerie shadows of the hiding demons across the floor.

Then his wings begin to appear.

With his eyes closed behind the blindfold, Aziraphale doesn’t see the glow, can’t notice the demons. He feels the heat of Crowley’s power sink into his skin, spiral through his body, coaxing his wings out of hiding with the caress of hands born of fire.

Aziraphale gasps when his wings break free and unfurl, a completion in its own right.

An intensely intimate, highly erotic experience.

Aziraphale stretches his wings when Crowley relinquishes control of them. It is part of the dress code for angels on Earth to keep them hidden, but he feels comforted by them. They soothe him, give him a sense of security.

‘Aziraphale …’

Crowley’s voice pierces its way through Aziraphale’s calm. It’s both welcome and a harsh reminder that this isn’t the end of their ordeal. There’s more to come.

‘Yes?’

‘I need to … umm …’

‘Just tell me, my dear. I’ll do whatever it takes to get us out of this.’

Crowley hems and haws, but he can’t find the strength to say. ‘They’ll want it to look like I’m forcing you.’

‘Do what you must.’

Aziraphale could very well choose to see through the blindfold but he decides not to. He stays in the moment with Crowley, let’s the suspense of his next move well up within him, give the demons in the dark the smell of his anticipation to feast on while they mistake it for fear.

He hears a rustle of fabric, feels Crowley’s hand on his head, a whimper rising from the demon’s throat.

He doesn’t want to do this. Aziraphale knows he doesn’t want to do this.

Crowley pushes down, dragging Aziraphale’s head to his crotch. Aziraphale pretends to struggle. But when he feels the head of Crowley’s cock nudge his lips, he forgets to protest, forgets that they’re in anything even close to danger.

Because he loves Crowley. Crowley loves him.

And it’s been too long since they’ve had one another.

Aziraphale opens his mouth and slowly, ever so slowly, slides down over him, licking along the way, the way he knows Crowley likes, doing his part to remind him that they’re in this together, that he’s with him whatever it takes.

Crowley threads trembling fingers through Aziraphale’s hair, bites his tongue to keep from moaning Aziraphale’s name. He thrusts up with his hips, pushes down lightly, his body begging with every twitch for Aziraphale to go faster.

For him to get this over with, put him out of his misery.

Because Crowley has dreamt of this - just this - since the last time they saw one another.

It’s cruel that he should get it now in front of prying eyes.

He rises to his knees, putting his hands on Aziraphale’s head and taking over, assaulting his mouth shallowly, trying to make it appear to the eyes around him that he’s fucking his mouth, violating him, hurting him. He doesn’t do this to his angel. He’s never done this to him. He wouldn’t.

But it’d be too easy.

It feels too good.

Not just the physical sensation of Aziraphale’s mouth around him, but the pushing him.

The forcing him.

The demon inside him rises up with each thrust, whispers in his ears to snap his hips harder, push in farther, hold Aziraphale’s head flush against him till tears leak from his eyes with the strain of his corporal form holding its breath.

But he can’t do that, he repeats to himself. He won’t do that. He won’t give in.

He won’t become like the owners of those coal black eyes watching them.

“Stop,” Crowley mumbles, mostly to himself, slipping out of Aziraphale’s mouth, regretting it the moment the cool air touches his skin. “That’s not how I want to finish. Hands and knees. Now, angel!”

‘Tell me to stop,’ he projects, ‘then beg me not to. Really sell it.’

“You … you can’t do this!” Aziraphale scrambles to obey, rolling onto his hands and knees. And even though this is fake, his nerves scatter, wondering about the origin of the edge in Crowley’s voice.

The fiery yellow simmer in his eyes, the one he’d glimpsed before the blindfold.

“Please, Crowley! I … I’m begging you! Don’t …”

“Sorry, angel. I want this too much. I need this too much.”

Crowley doesn’t give Aziraphale time to get comfortable. He grabs him, shoves his face to the sheets, spreads his cheeks apart, lines his cock with the angel’s entrance, and pushes in. Pushes hard.

It doesn’t hurt, but Aziraphale cries out.

Crowley curls black painted nails into the soft skin of Aziraphale’s hips, leaving bruises that rival the scars on his back. But even through this facade of violence, Aziraphale feels Crowley’s love. He still tries to make this good for Aziraphale. Crowley leans forward, presses the odd kiss against his skin, plays with speed and angles, searching out new spots that will make Aziraphale’s eyes roll, his back arch and his toes curl, make him moan louder despite himself. The thought that others are watching should make Aziraphale burn with embarrassment but he doesn’t care.

It’s been so long.

And he’s missed Crowley so much.

“No …” Aziraphale whispers, the fight fading from his voice. “Don’t … stop … d-don’t stop …”

“I claim you, angel,” Crowley growls. “Soon you’ll feel my fire inside of you. From this day forward, you can never escape me. I’ll be able to find you from here to the ends of the Earth. You’re mine. You belong to me.”

“Oh …” Aziraphale squeaks. Crowley’s words sound rehearsed but they feel real.

Like a vow.

“Yes,” Aziraphale moans beyond improvisation. “Yes, I … I belong to you. Claim me, demon …” he continues, his voice dissolving into gasps. “Claim me … I’m yours …”

Crowley shudders at those words.

‘Oh, Aziraphale.’

‘Crowley …’

‘I love you …’

‘I love you, too.’

“Oh,” Aziraphale sighs. “Oh Go---”

Crowley grabs a handful of Aziraphale’s hair, pulls his head back and crashes their mouths together before he can finish. “She’s not here right now,” he says, his voice heavy with anger and regret. “Your words belong to me, angel. Your moans, your whimpers, they’re mine. Say it!”

“They’re … they’re yours. All yours. I …”

Crowley cuts him off with a kiss, his body shaking as he comes inside his angel. Aziraphale follows, his knees giving out, sliding out from under him. He lands on his belly with Crowley on top of him.

His favorite position to be in, all things considered.

Through his orgasmic haze and the utter joy of coming in Crowley’s arms, he hears a mass of uncomfortable whispering, some sinister laughter, and one derisive snort.

Aziraphale feels the demons retreat, slide into the shadows, evaporating into the black.

“They’re … they’re satisfied,” Crowley pants, the relief in his voice seeping through Aziraphale’s skin and winding around his heart. “They’re going back to Hell. Hastur isn’t happy about it but they … they won’t hurt us.”

Hastur.

Aziraphale’s breath hitches.

Hastur was there.

A Duke of Hell.

Aziraphale had convinced himself that the demons in the room were minions. Underlings. He had no reason to believe that, really. No proof. It’s simply something he assumed.

But Hastur?

Who else had been there? Who else had watched?

Beelzebub maybe?

Will they report to Satan?

To the Archangels!?

Aziraphale knows that some of the higher demons do.

Will Michael find out? Uriel?

Will Gabriel?

Too soon, the warm glow of satiation, of being wrapped in Crowley’s arms again, his cock buried inside his body, siphons into the chill around them.

“I … I don’t want to stay here,” Aziraphale says, starting to shiver.

“Neither do I.” Crowley unfurls his own wings. He curls them around Aziraphale, wrapping them both up tight. Then, with a snap of his fingers, angel and demon disappear.

***

“It was a test,” Crowley explains, lying side by side with his angel in a different bed, a different room, grooming Aziraphale’s wings with careful fingers. “I wasn’t performing up to par for Hastur. I failed my performance review.” He chuckles. “First time in history. So I had to come up with something big. Something that would get them off my back for a few centuries.” From behind, arms wrapped around him, his chest pressed to Aziraphale’s back, Aziraphale feels Crowley swallow hard. “Hastur was adamant it was your fault. My associations with you, no matter how few and far between, were making me soft. They were planning on coming after you to get to me. I had to do something to get us both off their radar. Corrupting an angel …” Another hard swallow “… was the worst thing I could think of.”

Aziraphale smirks. “Little do they know I corrupted you a long time ago, my dear.”

“It was selfish, a-and it was wrong,” Crowley stumbles. “And I’m …”

Aziraphale tilts his head back, kisses Crowley gently on the lips. “I didn’t despise it, my love. I quite like role-playing with you. Maybe, someday, we could do it again. When it’s just you and me.”

“I didn’t want to turn you into a spectacle,” Crowley says, refusing to let Aziraphale absolve him so easily. “That wasn’t my intention. I didn’t want to humiliate you. I just … I didn’t know what else to do. I …”

Aziraphale kisses Crowley again when he feels tears roll down his cheeks that aren’t his own.

“You kept me safe,” Aziraphale whispers. “The way you promised. And I’m not going to lose you. We won’t lose each other. It was worth it.”

[katehuntington]

Title: Ride With Me (part twelve) Fandom: Supernatural AU Characters series: Reader, Dean Winchester, Bobby Singer, Ellen Singer-Harvelle, Jo Singer (Harvelle), Benny Lafitte, Garth Fitzgerald IV, Ash Miller, Castiel Novek, and many more. Timeline: 2008 Pairing: Dean x Reader Word count: ±5600 words Summary series: Y/N is a talented horse rider who is on her way to become a professional. In order to convince her father that she deserves the loan needed to start her own farm, she goes to Arizona for six months, to intern at a ranch owned by Bobby and Ellen Singer. Her future is set out, but then she meets a handsome horseman, who goes by the name of Dean Winchester. A heartwarming series about a cowboy who falls for the girl, letting go of the past and the importance of family.  Summary part twelve: After finally opening up to each other, Dean is having a hard time keeping his hands to himself. But the flirting is soon interrupted when one of the horses gets caught in a dangerous situation. Warnings series: NSFW, 18+ only! Fluff, angst, eventually smut. Swearing, smoking, alcohol intoxication, alcohol abuse. Mutual pining, heartbreak. Crying, nightmares, childhood trauma. Description of animal abuse, domestic violence, mentions of addiction. Financial problems, stress, mental breakdown. Description of blood and injury, hospital scenes, character death, grief. Music: ‘How Far This Road Goes’ - Gareth Dunlop, ‘Seven Riders’ - James Horner & Simon Franklin (second scene). Check out ‘Kate Huntington’s Ride With Me playlist’ on Spotify! Author’s note: Thank you @kittenofdoomage and @girl-with-a-fandom-fettish for helping me. You girls are awesome betas. Thank you for your endless patience!

Ride With Me Masterlist

     With a grin wider than the horizon, Dean puts the rolled-up mattress on Ted’s back, attaching it behind the saddle by tying the leather strings around it. He barely slept last night, but he doesn’t feel tired, not in the slightest. Nothing will get him off this high cloud, because last night, he kissed Y/N.        The head wrangler hums a Led Zeppelin tune as he tightens Ted’s cinch a little, patting his four legged friend on the shoulder when he’s done. Joplin is waiting next to him, rather impatiently, tied up to the strung rope between a boulder and a tree, like the other seven horses. Her female rider moves in between the dark mare and Ted, causing Dean to fight back an amused scoff. Y/N could have tacked up Joplin from the left side, which is the usual protocol when handling a horse. But instead, the cowgirl chose the small space between the two large animals, the space Dean already occupied, making it a tight fit.     “Morning, Yankee,” he teases, still with his back towards hers as he secures his lasso.     “G’morning,” she greets back. “Were you humming ‘Whole Lotta Love’ just now?”      Dean chuckles now, “I’ve got a reason to be cheery.”

     Y/N presses her lips together, very much aware why her supervisor is in such a good mood. She is also very much aware that he’s only inches away, the two almost touching. The chemistry is evident and she needs to remind herself that the others are also readying their horses; they are not alone like they were last night. Giving her hands something to do, she checks the saddle bags again, even though she has done so already.       “Did you sleep well last night?” Dean wonders casually, but she caught the lower tone in his voice. That tone that makes her heart beat faster and has her closing her eyes and taking a moment to compose herself.      “I did actually. A little short, though,” Y/N returns. “What about you?”      “Oh, I couldn’t sleep.”

     She can hear Dean’s boots crunch the gravel underneath them as he turns around. He comes closer and Y/N forgets what she’s doing, one hand holding the stirrup, might she need the support. She feels his hand on her hip, the touch so featherlight that she could be imagining it. Holding still while he moves in, she fights a shocked whimper when his breath fans past the junction between her neck and her shoulder. How contradicting; the warm breeze leaves goosebumps over her entire body.      “How come?” she manages to utter, her voice close to failing.      Y/N feels his lips against her hair, but he doesn’t kiss her there, even though she silently begs him to do exactly that. She moves into his touch only slightly.      “I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” he whispers in her ear.

     Before the others notice, he moves away and his hand slips from her hip, leaving a burning sensation where his fingertips gently pressed into her skin through the fabric of her jeans. The cowboy who has clearly found his way into her heart and her mind, shoots her a wink over his shoulder when she follows him with her gaze. Chuckling, she shakes her head in response. It’s a good thing she held onto the saddle, because her knees feel weak. God, the things he’s doing to her.      “Y’all ready to mount your ponies?” Benny checks, before he gets on his horse himself.      When all the wranglers have untied their horses, Dean rolls up the rope that functioned as a makeshift fence and adds it to the load carried by one of the pack-horses. He then puts his left foot in the stirrup and swiftly moves his leg over the saddle, the fringes of his chaps whipping when the breeze catches them. The others follow his example.

     “Alright. We’ve got a long day ahead of us. We ride to the next spring, but it will be roughly six miles from here. That’s more ground to cover than yesterday. It will be rocky terrain, so stay sharp and keep up.” Dean turns his horse with the reins in one hand. “Don’t forget to keep an eye out for the herd. They were last seen in Marsh Valley by hikers, but that was four days ago, so they could be long gone by now. If we don’t find them by the time we reach White Rock Spring, we’ll set up camp there and continue the search tomorrow. Y’all good with that?”

     The rest of the company agrees, both wranglers and horses excited to get moving. Joplin especially; the waiting has made her impatient. She rears, lifting her front hooves a couple of inches from the ground, repeating the action several times. Y/N rides it out, her hand reaching to pat the hot blooded mare on the neck in order to calm her down. In perfect balance she gives her horse enough freedom of reign, but controls the movements with her seat.       “Joplin certainly is,” she laughs, amused with the mare’s enthusiasm.      “Alright then,” Dean returns grinning, admiring her riding skills for a moment longer. “Let’s ride.”

     It’s past midday and there is no sign of the herd so far. The group of riders passed Weavers Needle hours ago, a thousand foot column of rock that forms a distinctive peak, visible from many miles away. Y/N felt so tiny when she rode through the landmark’s shadow, like an ant on the forest ground. She quite possibly strained a muscle in her neck from looking up, but the young woman from the North couldn’t help herself. The landscape, created by volcanoes ages ago and molded by wind and time, leaves her in complete awe. The further they travel into the Superstitions, the more surreal the scenery becomes. 

     Benny told stories last night about the mountains. About the legend of the Lost Dutch Gold Mine, and the hundreds of other abandoned tunnels, hidden in the volcanic stone. About the Indians, how some of them believe that the hole that leads down into ‘the lower world’ is located somewhere in these valleys, and that winds blowing from it create the severe dust storms in the metropolitan area. It’s a magical environment that, despite having a desert climate, seems alive. The way the wind plays with her horse’s mane and whispers as it breathes through the canyon. The way the mesquite bushes rustle and the Saguaro cacti reach their arms for the blue heavens above. This land has a personality of its own; unpredictable, layered and rich with wisdom.

     “Enjoying the view?”      Dean held up his horse as Y/N was staring up at the renmands. She didn’t even notice she fell behind.      “Sorry…” she mutters apologetic. “It’s just… everything here is so beautiful.”      “Sure is.”      The cowboy smirks at her, not just complimenting the landscape. Joplin’s rider is unable to hide her flattered smile.      “You can stop trying to win me over,” she returns jokingly, resting her hand behind her on the cantle of the saddle.      Dean side eyes Y/N, triumph in the way he holds himself, “Because I already did, right?”      “Don’t get ahead of yourself,” she warns. “Last night was amazing, but it was just a kiss.”      “Oh, I didn’t plan to stop,” he makes clear, copying her action without noticing, gripping the back of the saddle with his free hand as well. “Next chance I get, I’m gonna kiss you again.”      “Is that so?” she teases.      “Unless you’d rather not have me.” Dean observes her, eager to pick up on her reaction.

     His lower leg brushes against hers, the metal of the stirrups jingling when they collide. He stares into her eyes longer than he should, breaking through the resistance with more ease than Y/N wants him to. Honestly, she has never been an easy catch. She pictured she would at least let him work for it, prove to her that this isn’t just a fling. But her defense crumbles with every connection, no matter how small. The intern can’t help but crave for her supervisor to touch her, to kiss her right here and right now. Both of them being on horses complicates things, however, especially since one of those horses is Joplin, who is getting anxious now that she is a few hundred yards away from the group.       “I wouldn’t mind it,” Y/N admits, on a more serious note.      Dean smiles, delighted at that, looking down at his horse for a brief second.       “You oughta catch up then.”

     The wrangler moves his hand forward and pushes his heels to his horses flanks simultaneously, the aid triggering Ted to shoot forward like an arrow from a bow. Without giving Y/N  a chance to respond, Joplin’s instincts kick in; she needs to stay with the herd. In a blink of an eye she bolts, surprising her rider, who can only just prevent a squeal from escaping her throat. The experienced rider is quick to recover, though. She moves her weight forward, allowing her horse to move under her freely, giving her all the reins she needs. Within five strides, Joplin is at full speed. Y/N can’t recall that she ever galopped this fast. The wind pushes the tears from the corner of her eyes, dust blocking her view. Her hat falls back, but she’s quick enough to catch it and push it tighter on her head. She doesn’t care, though, because she feels like she’s flying.

     Before they reach the others, Dean sits back in the saddle and pulls the reins, telling Ted with a ‘ho!’ to slow down. Joplin is next to him within a second, her rider laughing out loud. The cowboy watches her, laughter erupting from his throat as well.       “You’re crazy!” Y/N accused, a wide grin on her lips nonetheless. “What if I had fallen off?”      “You’re too good of a rider,” he returns, never worried she couldn’t handle herself. “And it’s about time you let go.”      “I usually don’t like losing control,” she returns, trying to be stern.       He cocks his eyebrow. “You didn’t mind last night.”       “Underlining ‘usually’,” she repeats with a tone, shaking her head at the up-to-no-good grin on his face.

     “Well, you—” He points his finger at her accusingly before he pushes his hat up a bit. “— should loosen up a bit. Picture it like riding.”      Y/N frowns at the wrangler next to her. “I thought we were talking about riding.”       “It doesn’t matter. What does, is if you hold onto the reins too tight, your horse will tense up. You will tense up. But if you relax at the right moment…” He moves his hand forward, giving Ted enough space to drop his head and the gelding blows out a satisfied sigh. “So will your horse. You allow things to be. And those are the best rides, ain’t they? The ones where the balance is perfect, and everything just clicks.”

     Y/N agrees to that without words, smiling at the comparison. Dean lets the true meaning of his message sink in as well. It’s good advice he’s giving. Maybe he should take it himself. In silence they take each other in. She has rolled up the sleeves of her dusty shirt for the warm breeze to caress her bare skin. Not so long ago, Y/N came walking into the Saloon, ironed button up, polished shoes, hair band and clips not allowing a single stubborn strand to spring free. Look at her now, like she couldn’t care less about appearance. Look how beautiful she is.       “By the way,” the woman next to him recalls, her voice softer so that the tourists can’t hear them.       “Hm-hm?”      “You were right. That was a lot more than just a kiss.”      With those words she canters away, and he’s only able to breath out again when she passes the other riders to lead the group. Don’t be fooled, he’s confident about how things are going, but that doesn’t mean that ‘allowing things to be’ is easy. Even he, the guy who doesn’t plan ahead and takes it day by day, is daunted by the possible commitment that this adventure with Y/N will bring. But one look at her, seeing the change she’s going through, the difference in her demeanor and her lifted confidence; she’s all the inspiration he needs.             “You better wipe that smile off your face, Chief, or the coyotes might start wonderin’ why you’re all giddy.”      A little startled Dean looks aside as Benny holds back his horse until he’s next to Ted. Caught in the act the head wrangler glares at his friend from under his Stetson, but the smirk doesn’t die down. No need to respond in words, because both know why Dean is on top of the world. And so the two companions ride next to one another for awhile in silence. Dean’s eyes never leave her, though, watching how she handles the bubbly mare, who’s excitement got peaked by the little race. Joplin isn’t for everyone, but she’s taking his advice and gives the dark horse free rein, trusting her, and eventually the mare transitions to a walk.

     “Well, now you’re just embarrassingly gaping,” Benny notices, clearly amused by the sight of his lovestruck friend.      Dean snaps out of it and eyes him again. It’s not so much the fact that Benny is mocking him, more the fact that he himself can’t get a grip.      “Shut up,” Dean mutters, shaking his head chuckling. “You were the one gaping when you interrupted us last night.”      “It was 3 AM and I wasn’t even close to awake, and what do I find?” Benny lazily points his finger at the intern, then at the man next to him. “You two, giving each other one hell of a Yankee dime. I mean, don’t get me wrong, brother. I’m proud of ya, but excuse me that I was a little taken aback.”      The Southerner pauses, his piercing blue eyes brassy and up to no good. Clearly he enjoys taunting his pal.             “Took ya quite a while to notice me too,” he comments, adding fuel to the fire.      “I was kinda in the middle of something!” Dean exclaims.      “Hell yeah, you were.” Benny sniggers. “Good think I stopped ya right there. At least now you saved some for later.”      “I wasn’t gonna go all the way with her,” his friend declares.      It doesn’t convince the rider next to him, though, because he laughs out loud.      “Don’t piss on my leg and tell me it’s rainin’.”      “Dude, I’m serious!” Dean states. “I ain’t gonna rush this.”      “Ah-uh.”      “I said: shut up.”

     The farrier’s laughter is contagious, hiccuping as he takes in air, and his friend can’t help but chuckle as well. The head wrangler adjusts the ranch rope hanging over his horse’s shoulder, the broad smile never wavering. It’s not just the smile, though, that tells Benny that Y/N is the girl for him. It’s his eyes. He has never seen them shine so bright. He has never seen Dean so contented.      “You two go together like peas and carrots,” Benny vouches, looking from the cowboy to the cowgirl. “I’m happy for ya, brother.”      “You’re talking like we’re about to settle down and get a dog,” Dean scoffs skeptical, even though deep down he wouldn’t mind an outcome as such.      “Give it time,” the Southerner recommends confident. “After all, two months ago, you would have thought I was crazy as a soup sandwich, if I’d predicted you to be on cloud nine by now.”       He wiggles his eyebrows and Dean sighs in response. He’s not even going to fight his friend on this, Benny is enjoying this way too much to ever let go.

     “Dean!”      The call comes from the front of the group and it seems urgent. Dean snaps his head to the sound of Y/N’s voice and the clatter of hooves. The intern has turned Joplin around and ridden back to the tourists. One of the pack horses, Cash, who Macy was guiding along side, tries to flee away as he kicks violently to the ground. He spins in circles around the rider and her gelding Jimmi, who is starting to panic as well.       “Pull the knot, Macy!” Dean commands, pushing Ted towards the commotion.      Fighting to control her own horse, she reaches for the rope that ties Cash to her saddle, trying to yank the safety knot. By this time, however, the distressed animal has pulled on the cord with all its weight, and there is no way it will loosen.       “I can’t!” she yells back, fright evident in her voice.

     Trying to not get caught up in the line, she steers Jimmi to stay head to head with the anxious pack horse. Dean is with her in a split second, maneuvering Ted close to her and staying free from the web.       “Listen to me, Mace. When you’re on the other end, I’m gonna take over.” He takes the end of Cash’s rope, wraps it around the horn of his saddle four times and locks it in his fist, hooking it behind his hip for leverage. “I need you to get yourself to safety the second that rope unties, alright?”       He makes eye contact and she nods frightened, all while trying to calm Jimmi, who is getting more claustrophobic by the second. The experienced wrangler then backs up Ted, using his horse’s body weight to pull the safety knot. The second Cash feels the freedom, he bolts. Macy is clear, but the head wrangler and his four hooved partner are about to be catapulted by the horse on a rampage. 

     Thinking fast, Dean moves his reins towards Ted’s ears, triggering him to rocket forward. Three strides later Dean can feel Cash jerk at the saddle, Ted bracing himself, the well-trained cattle horse maintaining his balance. The rope slips from Dean’s fingers, but he is able to keep his ground, even though the rough material burns in his hand. With tension on the line, the wrangler tries to keep Cash away from a boulder that came rolling down Bluff Spring Mountain, but can’t prevent the panicked horse from slamming the water tank he is carrying into the large rock. Even though drinking water pours from the hole, it’s not Dean’s first concern. Cash is holding his hind leg up, still kicking the ground as the black horse halts, breathing out nervously. Dean spots a trace of blood, just below the fetlock joint.      “Shit…” He gets off, dropping Ted’s left rein on the ground, a signal for the horse to stay in place and wait. Shit, shit, shit.      Cash, who is shaking and breathing fast after all the commotion, turns his head into the wrangler, seeming to seek comfort from him. Dean gently rubs the gelding’s withers and slips his hand down the hindleg to take a better look. Two distinctive small holes are visible on the white sock, crimson drops rolling down. It seems like barely anything, but he has lived in this area all his life; he knows a snake bite when he sees one.      “He got bit,” Dean informs the five wranglers, who are waiting on the path in anticipation.      Benny curses under his breath, getting down from his horse as well.       “By what? A spider?” Y/N wonders, sticking with the tourists on a safe distance.      “Nope.” 

     The Southerner picks up a stick, poking at something in the bushes. Then he lifts the piece of wood, a snake hanging from the end of it. Macy squeals and Y/N inhales sharply, too. She has never seen a snake up close like that, at least not without thick glass between her and the reptile. God, that thing is huge!      “Is it dead?” Dean checks, still standing by the wounded horse.      “Dead as steak on the grill,” the Southerner confirms, taking a closer look.       “Is it a rattler?” 

      The head wrangler watches Benny examine the animal as he prays to God that it isn’t. Rattlesnakes in this area are highly dangerous. The amount of venom they possess might not be enough to floor a horse, but it will cause extensive swelling for sure, most likely followed by a bad infection that will cut off the blood supply. A bite inflicted by a venomous snake could be life threatening, even when treated by a veterinarian immediately. Miles from civilization with no access to medical resources, it becomes lethal.      “I think it is, Chief.”

     Y/N looks over at the head wrangler, who drops his head and swears. It slowly begins to sink in that the consequences of what seems like a small injury might have serious consequences. Dean looks up, making eye contact with the intern and motioning her to come over. She rides Joplin off the path and dismounts the mare, leading her to Cash, who she comfortingly pets on the nose.      “Listen to me carefully,” he starts, his voice toned down so that the others can’t hear him, as he instructs the intern calmly. “If that is a rattlesnake, I need you to take the tourists a half a mile up the trail. At the junction, you wait until me and Benny catch up.”       “Wait, what are you gonna…” she stammers, hesitant where Dean is going with this.

     He bites his bottom lip for a moment and looks deep into her eyes, the urgency apparent in his intense greens.      “You’ll be responsible for the guests, so be cautious. Don’t take any risks and keep them safe. I know you’re not familiar with the area and that this is a lot, but can you do that?”      “Benny could go with them, he knows these trails,” she suggests, but Dean dismisses it instantly.      “No. I don’t want you to see this.”      “See wh -” she pauses, his penetrating gaze and tensing jaw stopping her from forming words. Shocked she rakes her fingers through Cash’s forelock, only now realizing the difficult task that Dean is facing. “Oh my God, you’re gonna put him down.”

     He doesn’t answer, but swallows apprehensively. If Cash has venom coursing through his bloodstream, his chances of survival can be considered zero. A slow and agonizing death awaits him; a bullet to the head would be the most moral way to go. The head wrangler takes a deep breath, composes himself, and shifts his gaze to Benny. Seems like he’s going to have to use the Colt after all.      “I’m gonna check out the snake, make sure it’s a rattler. If it is, you know what to do?”       Y/N nods uneasy, but determined enough to assure Dean that she can do her part. He thanks her without saying anything, his eyes softening. Then he moves past her, heading back to the trail. Left stunned, she lets her hand glide down Cash’s nose, trying to ease the horse, who in his turn gently presses his large head against her chest. Even though Y/N barely knows the horse, tears prick in her eyes. Poor, poor thing. She looks over her shoulder, watching in apprehension, how the head wrangler crouches down next to Benny, who has the snake at the end of a stick. 

     Dean pokes the reptile to make sure it’s dead, taking a good look at the animal. The light brown color with dark blotches on its back and smaller dark spots on its side, are indications that Benny is right. He can’t tell much when examining the head, since Cash killed the snake with a fierce kick and smashed its skull. Dean picks up the animal by the tale. It looks different from the rest of its body, but there is no rattle at the tip of it, like he has seen before with the Western Diamondback that is common in the area. He sighs relieved.      “It’s a Gopher snake,” he states. “A Sonoran, by the looks of it. Smart fellas; they mimic rattlesnakes to ward off predators.”      “Could’ve fooled me,” Benny concedes.      “Not venomous?” Y/N checks.      Dean smiles her way. “Not venomous.”      A weight falls off her shoulders, and the female wrangler rustles Cash’s mane thankfully. She exchanges a look with Dean, silent conversation easing the both of them. Then the group leader turns to the tourists.       “Alright y’all, let’s take a break here,” he decides, beckoning at the shade near the big boulders.       “Is Cash gonna be okay?” Macy asks worried.      “He’s gonna be fine. We’ll rest up for half an hour, meanwhile fix that water tank. Benny? Let’s repack so that we can take the load off Cash.” Dean turns to look at the farrier, who nods in agreement.

     They leave the snake for the vultures and move away from the trail. While Benny and Brad tack down Cash and focus on repairing the tank with duct tape, saving the water that remains in the tank by catching it with their water bottles, Dean focuses on the black gelding’s injury. Y/N strolls past him between the horses, who have taken cover in the shade. She watches how the cowboy flushes the puncture wounds with water, despite the fact that Cash keeps lifting his hind leg.      “Do you need an assistant?”      He looks over his shoulder and nods. “Could you hold him for a sec?”      She takes Cash by the rope that he fought so hard minutes ago, rubbing the bay’s shoulder in order to distract him. It works, because the gelding puts his foot down, allowing Dean to press a gauze soaked with betadine on the small holes.      “There,” he says satisfied, when he’s done cleaning the punctures. 

     Y/N lets go of Cash’s halter, picking up the bottle of betadine from the first aid kit, together with a clean gauze pad.      “Your turn.” She nods at his hand.“Show me that.”      Dean brushes it off. “It’s nothin’.”      His intern isn’t having it, though, and after shooting him a glare she takes his right hand and turns it over. Despite that his palm is calloused from years of ranch work, the rope has burned off parts of his skin, leaving fiery blisters.       “I wouldn’t file that under ‘nothin’,” she returns stern, mocking his slang.      Dean can’t help but grin at that, surrendering to her care. The smirk turns into a grimace when she dabs the damaged tissue with iodine.       “Sorry,” she apologizes when she notices him tensing up.      “It’s okay,” he assures, looking at her fondly, despite the sting.            Y/N blushes at his expression, breaking away from his warm eyes and focusing on his hand again. She applies a clean gauze and dresses his hand, taping the end of the bandage so that it won’t come off.      He checks his hand from both sides, impressed with her work. “How do you know how to do that?”      The cowgirl shrugs. “I have three brothers who never failed to miss an opportunity to fall from their treehouse or trip while chasing each other through the woods. You do the math.”      Dean chuckles, testing the movement of his fingers as he turns towards the other men, who are still working on the tank. On his way over, he glances at the young woman again.      “Thank you.”      “You’re welcome,” she returns happily, walking past Joplin to pick her water bottle from the saddle bag.

     Joining Macy and Jon, she makes the most of what remains of the half hour break, while the other wranglers try to repair the tank. Having lost most of the water, they don’t waste too much time resting up here and decide to move on to White Rock Spring. The other horses take over Cash’s tack, who only has to carry the empty tank. The gelding already puts full weight on his injured leg, the wounds so superficial that he doesn’t seem to be bothered by it. Twenty minutes later Y/N puts her left foot in the stirrup and hoists herself in the saddle. Her limbs are tired, her back is beginning to hurt. Day two of this trail is taking more out of her than she expected, not only physically, but also mentally, after the close call with Cash. Even though it’s early afternoon, she hopes that Dean and Benny will decide to call it a day, once the group reaches the spring. 

     It doesn’t take long before they pass the rock formation of Black Top Mesa and reach the T-junction Dean described earlier, left leading into Marsh Valley, right to Charlebois Canyon. The two Gold Canyon Ranchers leading the company have stopped just off the trail on the top of a hill. She catches a glimpse of Benny’s face, and he does not look pleased. Not sure if it’s her place to join them, since she’s the intern, she hesitates to ride up to the wranglers, but takes her chances a few seconds later. Dean did involve her when Cash suffered that possibly dangerous injury, afterall. Joplin halts next to Ted as her gaze jumps between the two riders.      “Something wrong?” she wonders.      “What’s missin’ here, Yankee?” Benny counters, without answering her question.

     Y/N looks ahead, down Charlebois Canyon. The land is dry and dusty, rocks and volcanic remnants more evident in the landscape. Now that she’s made aware that something is unusual about this picture, she remembers that the canyons east of Weavers Needle were much greener. More plants and bushes, more life.      “Water,” the female wrangler realizes. “There’s no water.”      “Yep,” Benny confirms. “That spring is supposed to be over yonder.”      “But how can there be no spring? It rained cats and dogs a week ago,” she wonders confused.      “Welcome to Arizona, where it can be raining like a cow’s pissin’ on a flat rock on one side of the road while the sun shines on the other,” the Southerner states.

     Dean is quiet, the gears in his head turning as he blankly stares ahead. He’s holding his reins with his unharmed hand, the leather feeling a little foreign, since he hardly ever rides left-handed. There are a few more springs close by, but since the whole canyon looks dry and dead, except for a few Saguaro cacti, he’s guessing that those ran dry too. Biting his bottom lip he glances over his shoulder in the direction where they came from, then north.      “What do we do now?” Y/N inquires, her eyes shifting from Benny to Dean.      “Chief?” the farrier checks with his friend, when he doesn’t respond.       “How far do you think it is to Eagle’s Nest?” he questions. “About six miles?”      “Give or take,” the Southerner affirms.      Dean ponders, but then turns Ted around to face the three approaching tourists.      “We’ve run into a bit of an issue,” he starts, updating the guests on the newly occurred problem. “White Rock Spring has dried up, and looking at the vegetation, I don’t think it’s wise to continue east. We’re not gonna find water there, which also means that the herd is most likely elsewhere. The way I see it, we’ve got two options: we either turn around and ride four and a half miles back to Willow Spring, or we move north to Salt River.”      “How far is that?” Brad asks as the dark haired student rests his wrists on the horn of his saddle.      “Six miles,” Dean declares. “If we leave now, we’ll hopefully make it by sunset. We need an inventory on water and food supplies. And I need y’all - and this is really important - to be one hundred percent certain that you’re up for another six hours in the saddle. If anyone ain’t, we will turn around to the Willow and cut our losses for today. No shame in it.”

     The leader of the company now turns to Macy, who has Cash waiting next to her. The black horse looks alert and calm, his weight on all four hooves.      “How’s he doing?” Dean wonders.      “He seems fine. He’s sound, even in a jog just now,” she returns, having kept an eye on the gelding next to her.      Dean nods, but not completely satisfied. He’s torn. Torn between pushing through and marching on to Salt River, or taking the safe route back to where they came from. Going back feels like giving up. It will be another day without a trace of the herd, another day of wasting time and energy. They have enough food with them for five days. Heading back might be a crucial setback, one that could lead to returning home without the group of young horses. He promised Ellen and Bobby to bring them in, but he also promised to keep everyone safe. 

     “How much water do we have left?” he checks.      After a quick count, they come to the conclusion that they have about 10 liters between the six of them, the horses not even included. The animals are used to these circumstances, though, and they can go without water for three to four days. Dean is confident they should be okay. It’s the riders he’s worried about: both the tourists and Y/N. Dean sighs, looking up the trail from Marsh Valley that leads into the mountains.       “Is there anyone who wants to go back to Willow Spring?”      No one steps forward or raises their hand. Dean looks the crew in the eye, one by one, trying to unravel them and detect even the slightest hint of doubt. His gaze lingers on Y/N, who doesn’t give him an inch and seems determined. He nods, his mind made up.      “Alright, then,” he decides. “We ride north.”

Thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to reblog my work or buy me coffee (Link in bio at the top of the page).

Read part thirteen here

[dansedan]

I threatened on the Disco Writer’s Nook server to share my notes from this latest fic, but since they’re wildly incomprehensible and kind of silly I thought maybe I’ll just... chuck ‘em on here instead, under a readmore where they can pass by easier so uhhh xX WeLcOmE To My TwIsTeD mInDXx !!!1!!

(warning for LONG LONG post- I write full sections and asides from the universe that aren’t even in the damn fic within the same notes document a lot... I’m also insufferably pretentious on notes I KNOW and I cull it on the final as much as I can, as well as mild possible spoilers for a fic I haven’t written in the same au-timeline-thing I suppose and NSFT stuff)

(also a lot of this gets discarded because it’s so stupid and I write it at terrible brain moments)

"Por la mañana me di a la estúpida tarea de esconder mis cigarros por los rincones de la casa. Los encuentro, claro, pero fumo poco, fumo menos, hago esfuerzos por mejorarme de una vez."

meditative cigarettes and quitting fic.

Harry smokes less than he drinks, because he smokes to keep sharp and he usually wants to be numb, down to zero, space-based. but after going tee-total and opening up on his quest to actual-human-persondom he finds himself chainsmoking constantly. A concern in his volition is raised, a thought project ruminated on, and strategems laid out.

Harry grasps at the first half at a low point in his attempts to get better without anyone knowing or helping. He wonders about Kim's life, Kim's control. The electrochemistry in him fantasizes about a free-wheeling party-boy sort of Kim, still cool, still quiet, but free and soft and in control of his lack of control- the aviator, the flying ace, at the mercy of the elements and gliding by by choice- lands on the question of the one-per day, the Kim he knows, who takes what he needs with trepidation and preparation.

The truth is that last one- Kim was a social smoker, an after-dinner-if-the-date-is-pleasant smoker, an after-sex smoker, a bumming-cigarettes-to-gague-his-interest smoker (it all started with a boyfriend) but police work and his neverending stint in Juvie drove him to once-per-day, a creature of obsession. He used to heavily resent it- until Harry came along and joined the ritual.

"bebiendo mate con el ademán gracioso de los novatos. Es lo que hago ahora cuando siento ganas de fumar, dijo, con una sonrisa."

Kim and Harry not so close together- the idea of Kim and Harry not knowing everything about each other, because that's just not how you survive, but somehow Kim aching to be up-to-date on Harry all the time.

Harry and his funny little excursions around town. Kim visits and finds cigarettes hidden around the house, smells them in fear of finding drugs, or Harry has to awkwardly shuffle around for one when Kim invites him to smoke. Harry tries to join a book club, starts cooking lofty meals for his yoga class, tries being vegan for a week, checks out a bunch of books on the history of the Coupris Corp (SUZERAINTY ERA MARK OF AUTHENTICITY BABEY) as a way to help him wean off substances but also off Kim. They want each other but they know they need to stand on their own </3

Harry starts going to this novelty/gourmet supermarket and buying one new thing every paycheck like furikake that says it has lead on it and mate and all that. He spends his ex-drinking, smoking money on it.

Harry makes Kim huevos rotos :'-)

You're barely holding it together- how the hell did you get to this newsstand? Is it a newsstand? This structure- round, metal, iron-wrought frame and squat stature- was once a newsstand. How do you know it isn't? What is it now? You feel yourself point someplace on a menu you can't see past the dew of heavy crying- the clerk does not react, he's seen you like this- slam your wallet on the counter. You receive a paper parcel slightly larger than your fist, long. It's warm through the paper, and you can feel the dryness of a light dusting of flour passing through it. Food.

Your legs and arms are moving on their own again, wallet shoved this way, steps stumbled past the other, clumsily bringing whatever it is to your mouth and feeling crumbs fall into your beard- like a shark. That's one of the first things you remember, the beautiful old ultraliberal woman, like a shark, on her boat. The joy of your first- no, second- idiom. The first was up on Marvel Hill where you can't live. Kim said that. Kim's gonna be there, when you do it like a shark and don't stop any of this on your way to work and you stop crying so nobody thinks you did what you're avoiding doing. Is there anyway you can forget the frittte? There's so many locations in your mind, what kind of man are you, remembering the placement of a store that's meant to vanish and appear out of convenience like it's a fucking pitstop (would a flask not be enough? A single habit to get rid of, easy- but you're never easy).

You feel dark-dark-light-darkness and then light again, and smoother flooring and your coat being too warm. You're at the precinct- fuck, you're at the precinct- and it's late, real late, but you are here and there's too many people to fuck up here and at least you aren't crying. Your red face and eyes blend perfectly into too many years and days of red and puffy eyes to call attention. Perfect, perfect- god bless the innocence (or is innocence god? You can't forget- Remember- something.)

"You're late, shitkid." At some point Jean appears beside you. He's walked the other way and stopped- he's grimacing- but more importantly you see his left arm raise and still and clench itself, like a restricted movement, natural instinct. "You smell like shit- is that fish?" You do not know if that is fish because your throat hurts so bad already that you cannot know if you've been swallowing bones for this past hour (minute? Minutes? The walk feels like forever and never enough. You're swearing like a pig now that you're standing, how adequate.) 

You want to say it's agony, the end of days, the end of you- you want to say reprise, and sorry, and oh god I didn't want to see you please I don't deserve it Jean please leave and go away from me and also please oh god please hold me up I don't know what I'm doing but I'm trying to be better but I ate this thing that might as well be sawdust and I do not know what time it's been for several days.

Instead you say "it's my GOD-GIVEN RIGHT, VIC" and you move along like a fucking idiot.

"An image arises in your mind's eye-- a baby, dirty, hideous, its skin mottled and raw and red, peeling, stretching almost impossibly. The baby cries from pain- in it's brief stay on this earth it has already suffered more than some men do in their entire lives. He is built for it- thick skin, quite literally. He is being held by a slight, pale, ugly nurse- a nun in bloodied white rags with a terrible smell of herbs permanently attached to her. The scene is a caricature of mother and child- the hideous thing, held up to her chest, is drinking from an amber bottle, clouded over. In ten years, the contents of this bottle he will be legally too young for-- is this the reason you became the way you are? Are you just born-and-bred this way, surviving off of alcohol where most people had blood and human kindness?

-- It's not. The little pastiche you've thought up for yourself is half propaganda and half racist idiocy. Despite what the supposed "race-realists" may say, not everyone from the Insulindian is thrown on the bottle the moment they're weaned from the tit. In truth, you were barely even medicated, and those bitter, herbaceous spirits are not the cause of your current addiction. It's still on you harry, it's always still on you.

"Wake up- time to listen to the radio.

You love the radio. You really, really love the radio. You think the radio was the greatest purchase you have ever made- drunk you was horrible, and traumatizing, and entirely undebatably subhuman, but he did buy this radio, and by god fuck if that isn't his saving grace (a story comes to mind- a Dolorean allegory from your childhood- about a selfish rich woman and a lazy cheating bum both ferried up to heaven by a single onion that she'd given him during their lives as charity. You choose to ignore the part where they fight and fall back into hellfire). It's the thing that broke you off from your mazovian monk-like refusal to buy anything for yourself other than flour for a week after THE HANGED MAN, it's what got you into cycling and hanging out with the neon eyebleed catsuits crew, it's what reminded you that public libraries exist and nobody will ask you why you're in there reading about suzerainty-era motor carriage manufacturing and the homo-sexual underground. It's the greatest thing since communism, since disco, since-- since-- since cigarettes and kebabs and- and--

... And idolizing someone to the point of crucifixion. Which you aren't supposed to be doing.

Good thing the radio cranks up real loud! 

"You've read everything in this section- theory, history, photography, even, notably, the single romance novel, comically bad, about a middle-aged Vespertine businessman travelling north to the harbour where he had experienced his first teenaged love-- and the young, strapping man he gets to know there. (There are boats involved- it's very biblical). All in all, you read it twice,  meticulously rewrote its horrifyingly vague and unsafe sex scenes (in pen, inside. Not like the librarian's gonna check it) and masturbated at your efforts, winning you a very sore wrist and about 30 minutes of crying because you remembered being in a bookshop with Kim in Martinaise while you were remembering what books were, and then remembered Jean's apartment having a secret stack of equally terrible heterosexual novels bequeathed to him by an ex that you made fun of him for (rabidly, for years).

"Harry's apartment is no longer clean, but not as dirty as before, and its stalwart light-green walls seem, in the summer light, less queasy and foreboding than what they are now, almost dainty in the contrast of the sparse few frames and piles of knickknacks on the floor. 

Believe it or not, this is good-- sometimes, life with Harry makes you feel like a zoologist, intricately analysing an animal's pile of leaves and refuse and knowing, despite all human standards, what these habits mean for the foreign species. And for Harry, mess like this is good. It means he's kept busy by any one of his million little projects,  picked up and put down at a dizzying speed and constancy, each one increasingly out of left field in

Kim and harry talk about the radio, kim thinks about it "radio, what's new? Radio- some-one still loves you"

Harry talking abt agenda + library bc you can't smoke + planning for dinner with Kim :-)

Gotta go to the library so you don't chainsmoke

Gotta shower to go to the library 

Don't wanna shower bc executive dysfunction

Grab a smoke before you shower 

Oh wait you've been chain-smoking fuck (insert meditation on sharp vs smooth)

Hide all your cigarettes around the house feeling pathetic about it

You still don't feel like showering

But you just chainsmoked and you know you'll do it again because you JUST hid your smokes and the hiding spots are fresh in your mind

Birdbath (why are you so fucking dysfunctional that you can't shower like a normal adult) 

Introspective rubber ducky selfhate momence

Rubber ducky encourages you through the power of nihilism and Kim

Thought project gain

Go to library and need comfort so you're going thru all your usual shelves (insert le funny homo shelf joke here) 

What does he read about? Smoking? Idk

Kiiiiiim. Kimmy kim kim. Think about Kim

Maybe he reads recipe books to woo kim

        INSERT EXISTENTIAL BROTH EPISODE HERE to talk about how you've never actually seen Kim cook (he told you it was good soup, clearly lying, you told him it was broth, and that you could teach him how to make soup out of it if he wanted...)

(broth episode was another note, inserted here: 

ANOTHER harry coping fic. Miserable housebound weekend nights because he can't party but the house is horrible to be in and he keeps dunking his hands into more and more ice water and taking like half-body cold showers and he's like "maybe this is bad for my skin!!! I gotta get out holy shit" and he's like uhhhh fucking. Can't go to work. Let's go to the supermarket. And then he's almost there and he's like OH FUCK NO THERES ALCOHOL AT THE SUPERMARKET and he straight up bolts out of there and muscle memory gets him to a shady ass butcher shop in some random immigrant neighborhood and he buys so much fish because of a failed check and he goes home and basically he makes so much fish stock. He makes just so fucking much fish stock and Kim comes to pick him up the next day and panics because it genuinely smells like the dead in there but it's just harry making fucking. fish broth or something. Just harry coming up to the door in his work clothes with way too much cologne on and a thermos of fish soup like "uh... Do you want some Broth kim?" And Kim can't fucking cook but he takes some Broth anyway and he's trying to figure out why harry would do that but harry is being a little edgy about it and Kim is like oh god I need to help him a little and they have a sit down about it and he's like wanting to say "hey if you need somewhere to go I'm here for you" but it's hard and I don't even know if he ends up actually saying it. Okay bye)

Talking about the sexiness of supermarkets and how they make reptile brain go brrr

Think about alcohol vs smoking. Think about kimmy kim kim (insert european drinking joke here)

Have that get stuck in his head. Kim kimmy kim kimmy kimmy kim kim. Kimster. Kimbo. Kitsy. Kitty. Cutie. Oh god no fuck oh god I need to stop.

He goes home and still rlly wants to smonk

You hide the cigarettes around the house. It feels stupid, and you know you’ll be embarrassed having to pull the Jamrock Shuffle in your own apartment, that you’re a grown adult who could just *buy another box of cigarettes* whenever you wanted to, but you feel like it helps. Drag the killing thing away from the crappy little animal even for a couple moments more, let yourself get tired out like the old man you are below all the disco scaffolding. You can’t really bring yourself to shower, but you drag the radio into the bathroom with you and wash yourself in the sink. You try to be good about it- stay away from the mirror, really lather up and clear away the sweat that’s caked to you throughout the night and morning, feel the warm graze of the water on your skin. You brush shampoo through your hair and work it in in cycles, focus on the humming feeling of the bristles on your scalp, trying not to think of much of anything, just the smell of the cheap powdery soap and of what clothes you’ll wear today, try to settle into a better memory of this instead of picking at the shame you feel about how hard it is for you. ducking your head into the stream of the water in the sink and forgetting everything except the whishing, scratching sounds of cleaning.

Being clean feels good, and being dressed again feels maybe even better (knit sweaters are a revelation- who could’ve known polyester satin wasn’t made for seaside winters), so by the time you walk your way into the Jamrock public library the morning’s incidents are nigh-forgotten. The dry warmth of the old library is a reliable balm- the yellowed fluorescent lighting washing out the rows and rows of slate-grey plastic bookshelves lined up like soldiers over prerevolutionary tile, with its woven edges and dark, jeweled pinwheels of color, stretching out endlessly full of books, reels, and the rare intricate portrait hanging overhead. Before them, long wooden tables dotted with mismatched lamps, flickering in and out of use, occupied by antsy juveniles and sleeping hobos. It feels effortlessly like home, like a shared worldly past that welcomes everybody- and maybe that just means that it's generic and a little overdue for renovations, but you love it as it is.

Shuffling through the tall shelves of books, you weave through mindlessly to find your favorite sections- the history (both common and infra-cultural, with a surprisingly competent collection of industrial works and a predictably miserablly little shelf of homo-sexual underground interest), the art, and the meager offerings of political literature. You can hear your off-tune humming echo back to you somewhat feebly off the high, painted ceiling, done up in some lame facsimile of early Dolorian excess (therriers, noblewomen, forget-me-nots crowding the edges of each filligreed panel, dead-eyed faces in doleful expressions, pale and empty smiling). You've got all of daylight ahead of you, which is more than enough time to browse around as usual before you have to get yourself home and start cooking.

You turn the corner smoothly into the very back of the library, into a wider set of dusty and anachronistic wooden bookshelves-- history trends unpopular, considering the fact that all the books within are horrifyngly outdated due to a miserable municipal budget, maybe that's for the best. There are better places for students to get this information now, like the private library a couple blocks away at the Cycle Universitee, or from library dial-stations tuned in from the south, where the Bibliotheque Nacionelle Des Travailleures is run by Coalition-approved volunteers. The first thing to catch your eye is the pillar of works of infra-cultural expression and documentstion- essays and short stories from New authors, studies and zines on Disco, and of course, the particular political darling of the 20s, the homo-sexual underground.

You've read everything in this section- theory, history, photography- even, notably, the single commercial romance novel, comically bad, about a middle-aged Vespertine businessman travelling north to the harbour where he had experienced his first teenaged love-- and the young, strapping man he gets to know there. (There are boats involved- it's very biblical). All in all, you read it twice,  meticulously rewrote its horrifyingly vague and unsafe sex scenes (in pen, inside. Not like the librarian's gonna check it) and masturbated at your efforts, winning you a very sore wrist and about 30 minutes of crying because you remembered being in a bookshop with Kim in Martinaise while you were remembering what the world was, and then remembered Jean's apartment having a secret stack of equally terrible heterosexual novels bequeathed to him by an ex that you made fun of him for (rabidly, for years). You shudder, now, at the sight of its cracked spine looking you from the middle sill. Its gaze feels hefty and judgemental, and you do not like it.

There are  

KIM CHAPTAAAA

"you'd like him to take care of himself. You'd like to be there to do it for him when he can't"

"He opens the door, and immediately there are a million little things that test you (hell, with that thick-knit sweater he's wearing, any weakness in you would have him writhing on the floor in seconds). The half-up style of his now-so soft looking auburn hair, split across to reveal the pale white of his nape between the raised collar of his sweater, the kind wrinkling of his open smile upon seeing you walk in, the light, jazzy music of the radio backing his belly-deep laugh and the heady smell of incense in the room are all exhilaratingly Harry to you.

What to do with jean:Standalone fic for him?

Starts when he sees Harry with the eyebleed crew and he's the one who goes up to him like "WHAT IN THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING SHIT KID" and harry is like. Oh god oh fuck jean uh let's be... Cordial! Optimistic! (What jean sees is one of his signature pauses but like. Yeah it's the skills talking) and he's just like "oh it helps me stay sober and make friends, I found out about it on the radio🙂" and Jean is like holy fucking shit this is absolutely insane.

            1) bc Harry used to be so repressed he was basically homophobic with his macho act

            2)bc Jean originally didn't believe the amnesia thing but then when Harry genuinely did shit like this and never told him (which, if it was a cruel joke he would've tried to make it very public and obvious and drag jean into it to embarrass him)

            3) because JEAN was his friend and why the fuck does he just. Run off with random people with a radio ad instead

            4) because he's doing so well. He's like, fully at the sort of "this-side-of-pudgy" bear level that's hot enough to get him positive attention over the damage of the alcohol and he's wearing the sort of clothes that show it and he's got all these crew buddies where Jean is stuck with his hellish depression workouts where he sometimes works until he pukes and then feels like shit about self-harming like that. (what he doesn't know is that Harry is basically doing that same exact shit just he's using his swag alcoholic skills to lieeeeee about it. rip)

Maybe harry apologizes in their conversation about the romance novels. Like it blurts out.

eventually add in the previous consideration fic you were thinking of &quot

starting with bitter porno kimbo/viccy catfight bullshit

"no that's pathetic and he'd never go there." dynamic where kim cares quietly and jean is bitchy about Harry

then "no, he's dealt with harry so much already, I can't imagine." so it's all concern for him

and then that backslides into "how could I comfort him? how could he understand my need for comfort? "

we stan a mildly nonaccepted himself Jean so he's like "WAIT UH GAY THOUGHTS ABOUT THIS GUY TOO? FUCK FUCK FUCK"

gotta make it panic horny. it's a Dan Gat fic. how would kim look.... yknow......

since the only other guy who's been like that with him has been harry -> third wheel dynamic going to ->

horny ot3 dynamic. old men doting on him because it's his fantasy and he gets to be the pampered one goddamnit

end somehow

THIS IS THE EXACT DYNAMIC WE'RE GOING FOR Jean liked Harry premart and Harry was unbearably machismo repressed homophobic bullshitero man (I need to decide if he was stupid enough to be like AS LONG AS IM ON TOP IT ISNT GAYYYY or smth sex/intimacy related like that maybe he just kinda. ""comically"" hit on Jean or said suggestive shit to him but never fully acted on it) and then he comes back from Martinaise all loyal puppy dog or whatever for Kim and Jean is like "??? OKAY SO I GO THROUGH ALL THIS BULLSHIT AND HE TALKS SO BIG ABOUT LOVING MUSCLE DUDES AND NOW HES GONNA FUCK THIS GRANDPA?" but then he's like self-aware enough to know that's stupid.(Jean's problem is that he looks for wounds on Kim and not Harry, so he's all like "damn this bitch stole my mans when he's actually good...." meanwhile Harry is like Very Obviously Self Harming All The Time and not even really with Kim so often rip)

Harry wants to reach out and ask him about his thing with Kim because he has memories of Jean either being gay or being less homophobic or just having Gay Energy that he was an asshole about or whatever plus it just feels natural to work through shit with Jean but he stops himself because he's like "well DRINKING also felt natural that doesn't mean we should do it..."

maybe they get into it because Jean makes an offhand comment about "stop ogling kim" and harry is like (computer warmup noises) and jean just kinda forces him to spit it out RE: meme description

Harry's whole deal with avoiding Jean is "some things are unforgivable and I'm fairly sure I've done things bordering on that to you for so, so long, and now I don't even know what they were or who I was when I did them, to me that person is dead, and I know then that I can't apologize to you thoroughly, genuinely, and I don't want to insult you by presuming that I ever could, at this point. I don't want to insult you by assuming I can just go back to what we were before, to each other, without an apology or an actual understanding of what went wrong. I can't speak for certain about his mind-my mind- but at least in some part that guy killed himself because of what he did to you, and to everyone around him, sure, but mostly to you. And now I'm here, and it feels horrible to try and go against that and push myself into your life. It feels horrible to see I've done something to you worth killing myself over and then still insist on coming back to bother you beyond the grave"

And Jean's response is "you thought everything was bad enough to kill yourself over! And you're still alive, you're still him, and fuck, yes it'll take a long ass fucking time for me to ever really forgive you, but you were my best friend and you're still fucking alive- I see you every single day, Harry, do you know what that's like? To see your best fucking friend every single day and watch him flinch and try to act like he doesn't exist every single time he sees you? Fuck you and fuck what you wanted before, *I* never wanted you dead, and your little stunt here with pretending you're finally fine and then keeping everyone at an arm's distance is just another, slower grave you're digging" etc etc "if this is the upswing at last, I’d better be there for it.**”

Jean is a frat boy that you do not expect to be a frat boy. He unironically gets along with mack and chester. He's only just started to grow out of it through dealing with Harry's horrible downfall

sequel to geste drole des debutantes but it's just a 3 chapter PWP masturbation fic..... of Kim and Harry after the dinner and then SHOOKETH SURPRISE IT'S JEANGST YEARNING TIME!

Kim trans.... Good for him...

Stroker shit

He wants to fuck Harry basically

     ...slow tease? Or fast and desperate?

Dry kissing

Hair pulling...

Youre hard, and you're wet, and you can't help but think of that smile on his face as you left and you want him to taste it, to get on his knees for what he's done to you and swallow it all down, feels the soft brush of his beard on your thighs.

 Harry also trans... Good for them good for them...

Handkink shit

Wants kim to absolutely wreck his shit

... He's new at this

Slow....

Jean

Jeangst

Want to wreck harry's shit... Mouthfuck stuff maybe

Power bottoming?? Idk

Whoops my hardcore dom revenge fantasy has slipped into a getting bossed around by the guy I thought I disliked for taking away my partner UHH.... LETS NOT UNPACK THAT....

Some idiot makes like a homophobic stupid "ah the fucking lieutants off scissoring or something" comment and then jean is like "oh god what if that but sexual instead"

Gym shower...

Jean has a big dick too bad bitch

When harry du bois ruined his life, thinks satelitte-officer Jean Vicquemare- he might at least have had the decency not to also curse his dick. This shit was weekly and only getting worse, now that the shitkid didn't constantly smell like despair and carrion had scored a threesome with a bartender's manual.