#but does his luck protect him from cavities...?

[skullsemi]

Idk why but I think the reason why Mortimer and Gladstone don't celebrate Valentines Day is because they're only there for the chocolate wdoqhwiq (And the gifts of course haha!)

(but it's just a weird little thought I had...or was it? 👀)

You could say that! I do know who's definitely only there for the chocolate

And no kidding that gander will eat anything with extra sugar in it

[bronx-bomber87]

Happy Saturday Lovely Fandom. We've reached the second to last ep of this series rewatch. Unreal. God I LOVE this ep. So so good. Tim being her handler. Reminds me of Alias. Which was my first love for tv show/ship. If you ever watched Alias you’d know why I love this asset and handler situation so much. Let us start.

5x21 Going Under

Start out strong Lucy is going UC. Has to do with the last episode. Frank Teska has been released from prison. He killed his brother for the attack on his daughter Dara. He is back in business. Looking to get into the Ghost Gun trade. You need specific polymer to make them. Metro raided and took his supplier out. Which is where Lucy comes in. She will pose as someone at Southland Chemicals. Be his new supplier.

We join our ship talking about the OP. Tim mentioning he’s using Hard Luck as his CI. Lucy not trusting this guy as far as she can throw him. Tim’s reply is the best. The fact that his CI knows how important Lucy is to him *squee* Then telling her as such. That this guy knows Lucy is special to him That if he messes up Tim will hunt him down. Gah I love this. Calling in favors for his girl. Work version of romantic ha

Lucy’s sweet expression when he tells her this. Basically saying he loves her in not so many words. Lucy being Lucy calling it 'Undercover love.' hehe Tim isn't even fighting it anymore. Just smiles shakes his head and rolls with her antics. We all know he loves her for it. Damn they cute. Actions always speaking louder than words with these two. Lucy couldn’t be cuter as Tim walks away. Her smile saying more than words ever could about how she feels about this man.

Then we get these GLORIOUS phone calls. Like rom-com goodies up in this episode. Love me some protective Tim. Asking her if he needs to talk to her boss? Lucy waves him off. Says she's got it. Tim looking mighty fine Phew lord Scruffy, his sweater and his eyes popping in this lighting. Mmm. Lucy of course checking in on him next. I love this so very much. He won't tell her he's struggling.

So she's going to check on in him since he won't do as such. Tim knowing exactly what she means. Asking if that means he misses her? We all know he does but he deflects in the cutest way. Saying no. His smile when she calls him a jerk. But he's YOUR jerk Lucy haha. He is so damn smitten with her. Loves teasing and messing with her. Just as much as she does for him. One of their love languages shining through in this moment. My damn heart.

She asks if Tim can check in on Tamara? Tim doesn’t hesitate for one second. Of course he’ll check in on their daughter. Doesn’t want her to lose any focus on the job. We then delve into the cute snippet conversations that have my shipper heart fluttering. Lucy telling Tim not to watch 'Top Chef' without her. I love that they have a show they watch together. Makes me giddy. Such a couples thing to have that. Tim giving her crap saying he can’t make any promises.

Lucy asking Tim if he ever wished he had a normal job? Tim says without people shooting at him? Not once. Lucy replying me either. These tidbits are just fantastic. They both love their line of work so much. This whole talking about everything and nothing at all just shows the deep bond they have. Comes from riding together for years 12 hours at a time. Her being UC is isolating but they get to have these moments despite that. Little pockets of joy before this OP heats up.

Tim asking if she’s making any friends? Lucy going on about a lady in her office. It’s so cute I can’t stand it. Talking about his grandkids and such. I love this is so very much. They did a really good job with these shots and the VO's. I saw a lot of people saying felt like rom-com and it really does in the best way. Just being on the phone whole time. Even though they're physically apart they still find a way to connect and be together. It’s so sweet imma get a cavity.

Day 4 rolls around and Tim ask if the monotony is getting to her? Lucy tells him no as long as it’s not for nothing. I mean she had two weeks of it in 3x14. 4 days is nothing but now she has Tim so she's got more to miss this time around. I adore the voice overs in this scene. Tim reassuring her it’s probably cause Frank is double checking her story. I love this shot of Tim in the side mirror. Fierce protector reporting for duty.

Frank has finally surfaced and approached Lucy. Her cover story of being a wanted felon has worked out. Frank thinks she’s an easy target because of it. Lucy playing the fresh start card with him. Not wanting to get into business with him. She does this so well. He tells her not an option. That he needs certain plastics and she needs to not go to jail. Telling her it’s low risk.

Gah I love Tim watching over the situation from across the way. Looking fine af BTW. My god I'll never be over how tall he is and I love it. Tall drink of yum. Look at him in his civvies, the hat, the glasses, the intense way he's watching her. Listening in to their convo. Trying to keep his protectiveness in check. Doing his best not to step in. Especially when Frank threatens her. Which causes Lucy to say yes. Frank says they’ll have dinner tonight then. He’ll come get her from her place. They can hammer out the details of this new partnership.

Lucy meets up with Wesley, Harper, Grey and her man. They’re going over this date for her. Tim looks like he’s going to crawl out of his skin. He hates the idea of this guy possibly thinking it’s a date. He hates this entire conversation really. Keeping his hands in his pockets. Looks at the ground trying to settle his protective nature.

I love Grey checking in with Tim. Minute he hears the word 'romantically and date.' He immediately looks at Tim. Knowing he hates this on so many levels. Tim isn’t being at all discreet with how he feels about this situation. He's basically squirming in front of all of them. Tim continuing to try to put on a brave face. Not well but sure trying. His whole body language screaming his immense discomfort.

Tim is being the least subtle he’s ever been in this moment. Hating the idea she needs a good wire in case he’s handsy. You can see him take a deep breath and clench his jaw at the thought of this. This conversation is killing him softly. Some angsty goodness though. The check in's these two have above getting me in the feels before she sets to leave. That silent communication of their's prominent af. I LOVE him walking Lucy to the door. The intense looks they share on the way.

They both look amazing btw. He keeps constant eye contact with her till he can’t any longer. The intense longing in his stare as he watches her go. *heart clutch* His entire world just walked out the door and it shows. Eric crushing it with the longing look. This is the type of angst I eat up. It’s so so good. Worried Tim is lovely to behold. And that man is insanely worried. He is an open book as she walks away from him. Trying to keep himself from losing his damn mind over this man possibly touching her.

Grey immediately checking in with him. Man wasn't exactly subtle during that whole conversation. Asking Tim if he’s ok? Tim lying saying he’s 5x5. Such a detached military reply. When he is anything but detached in this moment. Wade knowing he’s lying. Their friendship is underrated. Grey saying he has to treat this like any other OP. Any other UC. Sure he'll get right on that. Thanks to Lucy his emotions aren't so easy to turn off anymore. Also not like it’s the love of his life he’s watching over or anything…

Lucy goes to dinner with Frank all wired up. Tim watching intently outside. Fierce protector at the ready. The intense look on his face as he watches over her is doing things to me. *fans self* Like a lion pacing back and forth in it's cage waiting to be let out. Ready to attack at the slightest provocation against her. It's insanely hot tbh. He would gladly throttle this man if given the chance to. All he needs is to be given a reason.

Lucy almost gets Frank to admit to his brothers death when bullets start flying. We watch Tim in an absolute panic call this in. Desperately searching for her in the wreckage from his car. Trying to find her as he rattles off their address. I love her jumping up and looking his way so he knew she was ok. His giant sigh of relief when her head pops up. Feel like we all did that with him. Went from all out panic to instant relief. I said in the hospital scene she is his whole world. That just got shot at and he was paralyzed until she popped up.

He couldn’t breathe until he knew she was alright. His whole body slumping against his seat in relief. Eric crushing it out here with his expressions getting me all emotional. I love how his eyes dart back to her once more before he takes off after the shooters. Double checking she really is there. He couldn’t even be in pursuit of them until he knew she was ok. You can see he wants to stay but can’t. Having an internal battle but knows he has to go after them.

His cop brain in a delay due to this. This delay in reaction definitely affects him in his pursuit of the shooters. Don't think he was fully there mentally. Tim's head was most definitely not in the game when he went after them. Taking us back to 5x01 when Tim told Lucy if her head isn't the game 100 percent it'll get her killed. He is the living embodiment of that line in this moment. This dude almost killed him. Even when the gun is in his face his reaction time is slower.

That is not the Tim Bradford we know and love in the field. He was clouded his emotions running rampant. He had not compartmentalized at all. When Jan shows up it really hits him what almost happened to him. Saying he got lucky it was empty. Otherwise…ugh I don’t even wanna think about it. He’s panting his adrenaline waning and it showing. Looking over where the guy was knowing this could've been far worse. Knowing what it would've done to Lucy.

I love the minute she’s done dealing with Frank Lucy calls Tim. Anxiously awaiting him to answer her call. Both so worried about one another. Gah this episode is fantastic. Never seen Tim this panicky or shaken up. This is a UC OP he’s involved in I can’t imagine how he’d be if he wasn’t.

He just loves her so much. Having a legit meltdown till he knows she’s ok. It’s all over his face as he talks to her on the phone. Eric killing me softly in this one. Lucy isn’t pulling any punches with her worry either. Both making me emotional as hell. Tim replying ‘Yeah I am now.’ *internal screaming* Wasn’t ok till he knew she was.

The love they have for each other is all over this moment. I’m not crying you are…You can see all the tension leave his body when he hears her voice. The neediness in both their voices when he says they should meet up. Gah yes you do. They needed to hear each others voice to calm down after that adrenaline fest.

Then we come to THE laundry scene. One that broke my damn brain. Pretty much broke the entire fandom's brain. I love how she rushes to him and clings on. Wanting zero space between them. Tim leaning into her arms. Rubbing his hand up and down her back. I’m sure both their hearts were racing. They are each other’s safe space and this hug shows that.

So scared and only finding comfort in each others arms. So much emotion surging through them in this hug. I love me a good hug and this one is fantastic one. Trying to ground one another with it. Speaking their concerns about what they just went through. The swaying gets me too. I love everything about this hug.

Lucy basically launches herself at him. He catches her effortlessly and holds her so tightly to him. The remaining tension melting out of of their bodies. Because they were running on adrenaline and anxiety until this hug. Tim holding her so close making sure she’s real. There with him. I’ll never be over this moment and how lovely it is.

This next portion just proves why Lucy is his person. Tim is losing his mind with worry over this guy. Over him trying something. His anxiety coming off him in waves. Lucy wants to soothe him because it's her natural instinct. Tim looks like he wants to cry or punch a wall or both when he ask if he’s tried something? Lucy reassuring him he hasn’t but even if he did she’s got this. The fierce protector coming out strong right now. He can barely contain it. Tim deflecting a little saying ‘I know.’

Lucy knows this man so damn well. Telling him knowing and feeling ok are two different things. She's so right. I love the way she grabs his jacket trying to comfort him. Tim is being so soft and vulnerable in this moment. She wants him to know it’s ok. She’s ok and it’s very ok if he isn’t. Eric killing this episode left and right with his expressions. His heart is hurting it’s all over his face and Lucy is reaching out with a reassuring touch. I love her for validating his feelings. Not judging him for them.

But also knowing he’s being very vulnerable right now and she’s being wonderfully receptive to that. Tim gets a little defensive saying. Not his first time. Lucy is SO good with him. Doesn’t shame him for being bristly about this. Knowing it’s his PTSD in full swing. So soft in her reply and expression. Letting him know probably what’s making this so much worse for him. This is why she’s his person. Never shames him for his feelings only loves him through. Gah they’re making me so emotional. I love this couple so much.

Before Tim gets anymore emotional he tells her he has to go. Now isn’t the time to talk about this. That he knows if she doesn’t feel safe she will bail. If she’s good he’s good. Lucy confirms she’s good. Tim says he has to get back to the station then. Grey is waiting for a status update. Lucy stops him before he can go. Not ready to be apart from him just yet.

Grabbing his arm keeping him from leaving. I love the way she is looking at him landing on his lips. Then she says the 4 words that made us all collectively lose our minds. ‘Lock the door first.’ Is this real life? Did we really get this moment? Adrenaline fueled we made it out alive laundry room sex? Oh my damn lord.

The way he looks at her when she says this. *fans self* Tim is definitely not treating her like any other UC…I remember gasping at her saying this. Needing to be with him in this moment. Tim’s smile realizing what she’s saying. My god. Laundry room sex is now canon for them. We got shower sex last ep and now laundry room post-op sex. My god the writers were good to us. I like being pandered too LOL Also you know there is a damn good chance highly likely really this was unprotected too.

Lucy couldn’t let him walk away yet until she had him. Hot damn. Tim not one to deny her anything is easily roped into her naughty plans. I’m still not over the risks they took to have this heated moment together. They had a frenzied hookup while she was on assignment. I’m dead. They’ve actually killed me in the best way. S5 truly is a fic come to life. I love every minute of it. Clearly missing and craving sexy time with her man. Also probably still hopped up on adrenaline as well. Undercover hookup phew lord we are blessed haha

Lucy calls Tim after she gets away with Frank from the warehouse. Saying the OP is done. Frank has nothing left to build. Tim is flirty af in his reply. With a shit eating grin to go with it. Saying that’s too bad... Lucy is confused and says why? Tim referring to their hookup in the laundry room. Bummed he wasn't going to get another. Timothy Bradford I never haha This man is so different when he is truly loved and happy my goodness. I couldn't love it more.

Hard to believe this entire episode is canon. Tim is definitely loving his sex life with Lucy and proud to let her know about it. Hell so are we haha Horny Tim is hilarious and I love him so. They could find another laundry room for a repeat performance if he would like LOL Fanfic come to life this season swear to god. We live in a world where this scene happened and I’m dying.

They return home because at this point it’s their home. Gah love how Tim looks at Lucy as he approaches her. Man is so insanely in love with her. Lucy saying she needs a big meal, hot bath and quality sexy time. Heh. Then to sleep for 24 hours straight. I love how Tim encases her hands in his caressing them as they speak. Running his hands up and down hers. Needing this connection.

I love Tim being the physically affectionate one of the two. I always knew once they got together he would be the one who couldn’t keep his hands off her. Touching really is one of their many love languages and I adore it. Never saw them nearly as touchy with their ex’s. Just another reason proving why they’re so right for each other. Gonna be the death of me and I welcome it. Lucy can tell something is up. Asking him what’s going on?

Oh my poor damaged boy. Having a trauma response right now with her saying she needs time to decompress. I love him not deflecting and telling her how he’s feeling instead. That’s not easy for him. I also totally get his response. I still have trauma responses to things as well. Lucy knowing it is telling him it was only a week. That one nights keep will do her just fine. Trying to say without saying she’s not Isabel. Tim accepts her answer.

Lucy says she has to come clean about some thing though. That she knows she made him promise not to. But she watched 'Top chef' without him. For shame Lucy Chen . For shame LMAO I guess that monotony did get to her since she finished it without him.... Tim is so offended I’m dying. Calling her a 'Bad girlfriend' *screams into a pillow* They’re so friggin cute I am dying. Lucy's 'No, I'm sorry!' It is horrible Tim is right haha Making him promise not to then watching it without him. Every right to be playfully mad at her.

Lucy wastes no damn time and confronts Tim about the shooter in the alley. I love her so much for always calling him on his shit. Saying how he didn’t tell her he almost died in that alley. Tim brushing it off saying because he didn’t. Oh Timothy. Acting like her losing you wouldn’t completely wreck her. Absolutely devastate and ruin her like it would for you. I think that’s exactly why he did it though. Acting like it’s not a big deal when he knew it was.

Protecting her from that fact. Lucy coming at him saying doesn’t matter who told her. That they’ll set aside the fact he left it out of the report. 2x01 Tim would be appalled ha. Doing it for the same reasons Lucy did then. Insane how this same kind of fight still involves Isabel indirectly. Lucy can’t believe him right now. Acting like it’s nothing. Like she didn’t almost lose him.

We see a little more trauma Tim come out here. Just assuming she's keeping things from him when she's under. I so relate to him reacting this way I do. I misread something my best friend had texted me the other day. I made an assumption like Tim is here. My friend was wonderful texted me back ‘ Your trauma is showing.’ And it knocked me out of it. It’s involuntary when it runs so damn deep. And we know it does for him.

I’m so glad Lucy is there to knock him back out of it. Saying No you know Isabel did for a fact. Calling him right out for it. These kinds of fights are so good for them. Forces them to face the stuff they’re hiding. Things they didn’t really touch on last episode. This was a much better and more open conversation. Tim didn’t hide behind being ‘fine.’ And Lucy isn’t letting him get away with it. Tim can’t fight that logic and it’s all over his face in the second gif. The way his body slumps in reply.

Lucy making a strong ass point next. Saying if this is going to work between them he has to see the difference. She not wrong. He really does. Tim shooting back of course he can. (Babe you got some work to do...) What I love the most is Lucy said her piece. Put him his place about this. Which was needed and now Tim is saying his. The dialogue in this scene so much more productive than 5x20 was. Airing things out and how they actually feel. Tim voicing his need to know she will listen to him if he sounds the alarm.

That otherwise all the pain he went through was for nothing. Then he says the line that shows me Lucy is the love of his damn life. ‘I can’t lose you the way I lost her.’ Tears in this man’s beautiful eyes. Imma cry myself. Finally voicing the fear he kept inside last episode. He cannot lose this woman My heart. She is everything to him. Pulled him out of the depths of his pain and hurt. Brought him back to life. He loves her so much and is saying as such in this moment.

Lucy can see this and reassures him he won’t lose her that way. She would walk away for him if it ever got that close. Ugh my heart. He sounded the alarm earlier and she shut it down. So they both have stuff to work on. I mean it's why he brought it up. He felt like he was sounding the alarm in the laundry room. Lucy brushed it off saying she didn't want to tap out. But them having this conversation hopefully they can be more aware of these things for a future OP and in general really. The need to openly communicate is a must.

Tim says 'Okay.' Choosing to trust what she is saying. Then we get another glorious hug. The way he clings to her. His hand around her neck pulling her to him is so visceral. He loves her so damn much and it’s shown beautifully in this embrace. How much she means to him. Pulling her in close. Lucy doing the same thing clinging to him like a life raft. Her arms pulling him close to her as well. We see both her hands on his shoulders. *sigh*I'm so proud of them for both speaking their minds in this scene.

Lucy calling Tim out was so needed. He has to see she isn’t Isabel. If not it’ll destroy him. No one gets through to Tim like Lucy. This scene was so raw and honest. Very much needed after all that was left unsaid in 5x20. Never be over them being vulnerable with one another especially Tim. Not only telling her he needs her to listen but sharing he CANNOT lose her. Basically laying any cards she didn’t already have from him on the table. So proud of him. He’s come so far and this scene shows it. I truly love the writers for how real they write them. Phew Lord this was a good ep.

~~~~

Side notes-non Chenford

Angela calling Aaron from closet about a case hilarious. The entire ep trying to do stuff for her I was laughing so hard.

Also nice to see Celina go out with a nice guy. She deserves it.

Well the next one is the last one holy moly. Thank you forever and always to those who like, comment and reblog these reviews. You all have made me so appreciated by doing so. I will see you all in the 5x22 :)

[butleroftoast]

Why Morris eats poisoned food: An Essay

Or, why don't you just ritually cast detect poison you freak

Because:

This is often happening underground, in a tunnel, in a wall cavity. Easier for Morris to grab the dubious food in wildshape then beeline it for an open space if he starts to feel unwell (so he doesn't drop wildshape inside a two-inch cavity between hard stone walls).

It requires verbal and somatic components. Again, impossible in wildshape, and even if he gets the food out without anyone eating it, the fact that someone is putting rat poison down suggests they don't want rats and a druidic nutcase who aids and abets them crawling around in that location. They might not take kindly to hearing someone casting spells there.

okay why not cast protection from poison on himself or a rat who consumes poisoned food

To ritually cast it takes ten minutes. Good luck keeping an entire pack of rats away from a tasty morsel of cheese for ten minutes while Morris sits there muttering at it.

Again, see above, verbal and somatic, he has to be able to speak, so he can't do it in wildshape and by the time he's dropped it the rat could be dead.

That said, he would cast protection from poison on a poisoned rat if he could do so quickly enough, but it can't be done ritually, so it uses up a spellslot. This is why he doesn't use it on himself - saves the slot for when a rat is in imminent danger.

If he does use a spell slot to heal himself, it'll be with lesser restoration, and he saves that for when he's caught a disease on account of living, you know, with sewer rats. You only get to remove disease or poison.

Also, the "unruly rats might eat it before Morris finishes dealing with the problem" issue remains even if he knows for a fact it is poisonous, so the original point of him setting a bad example by claiming poisoned food for himself stands. He can try and command an entire colony of 100~ rats not to touch it, and on a bad day he will literally tell them that if they eat it anyway they will die and he takes no responsibility for that, but more often than not his conscience won't let him commit to that and he ends up taking the food.

Which still hasn't quite solved the problem. Now he has poisoned food in his pockets and some of the rats like to hitch rides in there, precisely because he so often keeps tasty things tucked away for them. If he throws it away some other rats will find it. Probably he keeps a pouch for food he knows is poisoned and, once full, ritually casts purify food and drink on it.

But he can't give that to the rats because then they will think the pouch is another secret treat stash.

Maybe he saves it for when he has guests.

"This cheese is nice. Where did you get it?" "Found it on the floor next to Lord Soandso's bins." "…" "It was poisoned, but don't worry, I purified it."

[cosmica-galaxy]

What about jeb, tricky, or sheriff who has a bby woth reader?

HERE'S THE SECOND PART! Tw: Pregnancy and non-descriptive birth mention, but double the sweetness of everything! +Reader has fem parts but is gender neutral +Set in Salty's Self Aware AU – SHERIFF –

The moment you told the sheriff that you were carrying his child, you nearly jumped out of your skin at the sheer volume of the ‘YEEHAW!!’ that the Sheriff bellows out. He could barely contain his mirth when he pulls you in for a very intimate kiss upon your lips, he even dips you down to kiss you even deeper.

You were a blushing mess by the time he finished as he nuzzles you in close and tells you how happy he is that you chose him out of everyone else in Nevada. After that, he begins to prepare a section in the conquered territory of the industrial section that he had control over in Nexus City that would serve as a home and base for you both.

During the first trimester, Sheriff is a little bit nervous, but primarily excited. He’s thinking about you whenever he’s at work and the moment he comes home, he’s all over you with cuddles and kisses that are so sickly sweet they may give you a cavity. The Sheriff begins to fix up the homestead with his fellow MERCs, building up a bedroom and making the abandoned building much more ‘homey’, as per your request.

Most of the things that they have are pretty much mostly metal and concrete, but that doesn’t hinder the Sheriff none as he goes off to find some soft fabrics and materials that he would make into furnishings for your little one’s room. With some luck, he managed to find some wood and fresh pillows in an abandoned house. He brings them back and begins to get to work the moment he can, hammering and nailing the wood pieces together to make a crib that resembles that of an old country-style design.

He also makes sure to catch your eye while he hammers and fixes up the new furniture, flexing and stretching periodically when he knows you’re watching him build up the items for your little one. A little way to make you flustered and pleased with his hard work. It never fails to make you blush and look away in an attempt at modesty, which the Sheriff took pride in. The labor he does for your growing family is worth it if it means he can make the most powerful being in all of Nevada blush with just a couple of flexes and poses.

During the midterms, the Sheriff employs both Church and Jorge to watch over his player while the Sheriff is out doing his missions around the perimeter of Nexus City. Both of the GOL3MS are obliged to watch over his lover while the Sheriff is out and the poor guy can finally have some peace of mind from the thoughts that make him worry that he wasn’t protecting his player enough. Meanwhile, you and the GOL3MS get to know each other more and more as they become regular guardians of you when the Sheriff is not available. He IS the guardian of Nexus City, after all. He has an important job to do. Especially with the Zeds walking about.

In the downtime while the Sheriff is away, you happily answer the curious GOL3MS’s questions about your pregnancy and why the Sheriff was so adamant about protecting you. Upon realizing that you were carrying the boss’s little one, the two begin to take their duties much more seriously. Almost like they were tapping into that caregiving side of their GOL3M natures that they seemingly have long since forgotten. This ranges from getting you whatever you need, to helping you move from one place to another, to simply making sure you’re comfortable. Which feels strange to both Church and Jorge, as it feels…right, in a funny way.

The sheriff also begins to make a medical center that is close by whenever you get ready to deliver the little demi-god into the world of Nevada, and he continues to prepare for his child.

Then, the due date slowly begins to close in.

The MERC crew is all nervous and anxious as the Sheriff is, especially Jorge and Church, who have both pretty much formed a bond with you. The Sheriff had to put himself on temporary leave as he stays in your shared abode with you. Making sure every little thing he can do for you is done. He also begins to finish up tidying the room and the items he would be making for your little one.

One of these projects he was working on was a rocking horse he made out of pieces of metal and wood. With the rockers being metal and the horse being made of carved wood. It was his most proudest accomplishment he made to date as the little rocking horse was made solely by his out hand. It wasn’t perfect, but it was something he made for his child, so he valued it as a keepsake. He couldn’t wait to take photos of his little one riding the back of the little wooden pony…

You were pretty much also doted on and cared for by your sweeter-than-honey lover as he would massage and give you loving kisses every single day during the last leg of your carrying process. You appreciated it as sometimes when the little one was being restless, he would help soothe the pain and discomfort from the movements the child would cause. Surprisingly, the baby would stop moving and settle down when the Sheriff would hum little southern-sounding songs to your belly. Making you also relax in the process as he would continue to do that for minutes on end.

Then, the day came.

You were with Jorge and Church when you suddenly get struck with a sudden wave of pain as you cry out loudly, making both of the GOL3M’s look over in surprise before they both rush over to help you. Church picks you up while Jorge hits up Sheriff on his comm, letting him know that his player was going into labor as the duo rush over to the new medical center to get you medical assistance.

The Sheriff pretty much abandons his patrol and was rushing back to the base to get with his player in time for his child’s birth. Nothing would stand in his way and if anyone did, his quad-barrel shotgun would deal away with any enemy that dared get between him and his sweetheart. By the time he gets to the medical clinic, he was out of breath but determined to be with his player.

However, the moment he chose to walk in on the medical staff that was helping his kid come into the world resulted in the Sheriff fainting from the sight.

He is reawakened by Church a bit later once the birthing process is finished and his player was laying in the medical cot with a little bundle in their arms. The Sheriff shoots up out of the chair he was set in and begins to walk over to his player and to finally see the little bundle in their arms. His lover could only smile at him as they hold the little swaddled gift out to him and the Sheriff takes it without hesitation.

Upon looking at his little one, he feels his heart melt into a puddle as the little one in the blanket was sleeping soundly and sucking on their thumb. He takes in the sight of their glittering skin and the rather peculiar star-shaped birthmark on their little chest. He gently traces a finger over the birthmark, which causes the little one to let out a couple of giggles as they wiggle in the blanket in response to his soft touch.

The baby opens their little colorful eyes as they look at him curiously and babbles out nonsense as the Sheriff could only chuckle and nuzzle them lovingly.

“Hey there, lil deputy. I’m your pa.” Sheriff affectionately says while he gives the child’s forehead a little tender kiss, which entices a happy laugh and wiggle from the infant in his arms.

The Sheriff feels the pulse of his heart thundering in his chest as he holds the baby close to his body, completely enthralled with the thought of fatherhood as he sits there in the medbay while his GOL3M companions also wave and greet the little one.

As a parent, the Sheriff is very loving towards his kid. He loves playing with them and getting involved with whatever his child is doing. If the kid babbles nonsense at him, the Sheriff will merely nod and go “I reckon so, little deputy.”. He lets the little one ride around on his shoulders and he even puts his oversized hat on his kid sometimes. Giving them affectionate noogies from time to time.

He even finds a little ranger hat and gives it to his kid, who promptly makes it their favorite item. The Sheriff is very happy and proud of his kid and stays involved with his family, which Church and Jorge are now a part of as his kid views them as their big brothers.

The moment he ascends beyond this world and into fatherhood heaven is when the kid’s first word is ‘howdy’.

– TRICKY –

It was surprising to YOU. Because you didn’t tell Tricky, Tricky told you that you were pregnant. You could only blink in a dumbfounded response when Tricky laughs madly and bounces around in an excited manner. You ask how, mostly because this dude is a zombie, and the clown merely chuckles as he snuggles up to you and says ‘story time~’ in a playful way.

A brief explanation about how he had an improbability drive inside of his body and how he could ‘will it’ to do things he wanted, like revive Hank over and over again after he’s been killed, or get someone he reallyreallyreally likes pregnant with his child regardless if he’s dead or not. You could only blink in flustered embarrassment as Tricky basically admitted that he wanted to knock you up whenever you both had…’fun’. You couldn’t hold your blush back and Tricky quickly noticed it before letting out a mad cackle as he snuggled into your side.

When you asked how many he wanted to have, he refused to answer. Much to your frustration.

The first trimester was spent with Tricky scouring Nexus City, hunting for a place for you to safely live while you were carrying his young. The most ‘safest’ place was in the abandoned section of Nevada, as it was clear of most factions. The only thing that remained were the Zeds, to which Tricky promised he wouldn’t let them hurt you while he was around. It was a small comfort, but you both could handle yourselves out here. You were the most powerful being in all of Nevada and Tricky might as well be a demi-god with his improbability drive.

You both decided on a tall building with a collapsed internal floor, which would help keep the Zeds out and away from your chosen dwelling. Which resides on the upper floors. Tricky may be insane, but he was still intelligent. So, he spends his excessive amount of freetime building up incredibly strong support beams to make sure that your chosen nesting site doesn’t collapse and hurt you and kill your younglings. Tricky would NEVER let that happen, ever.

Meanwhile, his player was busy collecting supplies and materials to start making the abandoned building a much more suitable hosting area to make into a home as Tricky regularly clears out the surrounding zone from any unwanted intruders. His protective nature is already emerging as he relentlessly rips and tears any opponent or wanderer that enters the nesting territory. Be they grunt, bandit, or zed.

Once supplies are found, you get to work with making the bedroom that your kids will call their own and as well as a bedroom for you and your clown lover to finally rest peacefully in. Thankfully, both of you have near-godlike powers, with you pretty much repairing and fixing up the place with a symphony of your iridescent strings while Tricky spawns and duplicates whatever material you both needed to patch up the place. Eventually, the building starts to look less decrepit and much more ‘homey’ and even colorful. Both of you settle right in.

The midterm of your pregnancy came around and you were already needing assistance from Tricky, mostly because of how big you have already gotten. You struggle to catch your breath after a long period of walking and floating offers only a minor reprieve from the struggles. You were pretty much weighed down and much more reliant on Tricky as the Zed pretty much stays near you at all times. His nesting instincts were getting worse by the day, so much so that he broadened the radius of his patrol and the bodies of his victims lay strewn about on the outskirts of the perimeter, which served as a warning to anything else that dared come closer to the building. His player was vulnerable…and that bothered him.

The player could only lay on their shared bed and deal with the cramps and pain from the carrying process. With Tricky attempting to help in any way he could, even if he wasn’t good at doing much, which you could appreciate. As he lays over your body gently and nuzzles into your growing belly, he lets out a couple of insane sounding mumblings about how much he loves ‘them’. Which pretty much perked your ears right up and finally, you popped the question. Just how many kids did Tricky hope and ‘improbability-fied’ into your body. Tricky says nothing as he wordlessly looks at the single crib you both made and duplicates it twice, leaving you with three empty cribs. Your jaw drops and you're assaulted by the sound of Tricky cackling up a storm in response to seeing your face. No wonder you were so tired and sore! This bastard pretty much wished triplets into you! You could only huff in defeat as you lay back down on the bed and give Tricky the silent treatment for the rest of the day. You only broke the silence when Tricky kept trying to talk to you and eventually he brought a dead body back in an attempt to make you ‘happy’ with him again. “SEE? CLOWN KEEP YOU SAFE! CLOWN IS GOOD MATE!” He tells you and walks into the room covered in blood…and promptly slips on it, landing flat on his back. That was when you allowed a spill of laughter and amusement to come out in response to his fall. Tricky was just happy that you started talking to him again after that.

Towards the final stretch of your pregnancy, Tricky is the biggest guard dog you have ever seen. He’s built up a large chain link fence around the perimeter of the building and he’s coming home covered in blood more often than not. You…couldn’t really do much, as you merely lay there on the bed with your heavy abdomen weighing you down. You could only let out a huff of frustration as Tricky takes up the rest of the responsibilities and forces you to rest nearly every day now. “CLOWN SENSES TIME IS CLOSE. YOU STAY HERE. NO WORK.” He told you as he went out to gather supplies for your eventual delivery.

He brings back pretty much whatever he could find that was medical in nature and even a whole stretcher. He sets them aside effortlessly and finishes by fixing up an area that you would be delivering the young ones in. Once that is finished, Tricky comes back and nestles with you for the rest of the day. No longer feeling comfortable leaving you all alone while you're this far along. You appreciate all that he was doing for you, even with him being as unstable as he is. You merely give him cuddles and a loving kiss in response to his effort, which causes him to purr and return the favor.

Then, the due date arrives.

Tricky is suddenly aware of something as you come to and he picks you up, much to your confusion, as he carries you to the medical zone. You were about to ask what he was doing before he spoke up suddenly. “YOUR BODY TELLS CLOWN THEY’RE ARRIVING.” He says, carrying you to the medical stretcher as he prepares the area in a strange and almost alien manner…almost as if he worked in a sophisticated place before he became the clown he is today…

Then, the labor pains hit and you let out a loud cry of pain as Tricky was already getting ready for the delivery. You go into labor as Tricky, in a scarily sane fashion, moves about as if he knew what he was doing. The first child is slowly born and Tricky cleans them up, swaddling the young one as he sets them to the side. Then the second child emerges, with Tricky performing the same routine with cleaning and then swaddling before waiting for the last one to be born. You were exhausted by this point, but continued to push with all of your might, forcing the last one out. Tricky collects the final child before performing the same robotic routine.

Once it was over, you were back to your normal size and very, very tired. You see how Tricky almost seems to jerk about before looking around, as if he was confused. Was…was he even aware of what he was doing?? You give him a confused look before laying back on the cot to rest as the clown himself looks over towards the three wiggling blankets before gasping and rushing over as quickly as he could.

Tricky investigates the little bundle of blankets, while completely disregarding how he got into the medbay, before he looks at each one. The three triplets all sported glittering gray skin as they wiggle and sniff about in their little green-toned blankets. They all had his precious player’s eye colors as they looked at him in a varying degree of interest and confusion. Tricky was shaking like a rapid chihuahua as he took in the sight of his little younglings.

The little children were gifted with a facial birthmark that covered most of their faces and it had similarities to looking like a skull. Which intrigued Tricky as he picked their little bundles up and held them close to his body. Nuzzling and sniffing them all affectionate, getting a variety of giggles and little squeals out of them all as he cuddles them lovingly.

Then, he turns around to see his player looking at them fondly and he hurries over to show them.

“LOOK! YOU MADE CLOWN BABIES! GOOD JOB, PLAYER!! :DD” He praises as the little ones yawn and slowly blink in response to him. You could only smile lovingly at your insane lover as you nod in approval as he already begins to pop off with names for each of them.

As a parent, Tricky is a wildcard. He’s protective, but he puts them in danger from time to time. He can be as quiet or loud as he wants to be. He eats ANYTHING and I mean ANYTHING. This leads you with a lot of directives for Tricky to follow, mostly because the kids are starting to mimic his behavior.

And poor Hank…

Imagine the moment that Tricky finds Hank and DOESN’T attack him, but instead sics his hyperactive chihuahua children onto the poor mercenary. Hank knows they’re your kids, so he doesn’t want to hurt them and make you upset, so he has to either turn tail and run from them or put up with their nipping and futile attempt to do him bodily harm while Tricky laughs in the background. One wounds his pride and the other wounds him physically.

You always apologize to Hank and make sure that you make it up to him for putting up with Tricky’s constant ‘training lessons’. You also try to make sure your kids don’t go full stupid on you by teaching them common sense. It seems the eldest child is the only one willing to listen, though.

You have your hands full with your new family and Tricky couldn’t be a happier dad that really loves his rabid little ankle-biting children.

[inukag-archive]

Yes, fluffy InuKag from the past two years when you get a moment, P L E A S E and thank you!

Ask and you shall receive! This list is very very far from comprehensive, but includes some of the team's favorites. Please feel free to add your own contemporary-fluff-sequel-free favorites in the comments!

Pre-2020 fluff list can be found here.

Together Changed by @goshinote & @lostinfantasyworlds (G)

Summary: On his first human night since finding out he’s going to be a father, Inuyasha begins to feel overwhelmed by the idea of impending parenthood. As always, Kagome knows just how to set his mind at ease.

--

She's Made of Outer Space by coccinellesroses (G)

Summary: The stars in Kagome’s time are never as bright as the stars beyond the well. Therefore, she developed a new habit of stargazing. Inuyasha, however, never cared for the stars until he saw them reflected in her eyes.

--

Far Away by @lavendertwilight89 (T)

Summary: Three years has passed since Kagome was taken to her side of the well by force. She has finally returned but the three years have changed her and she fears what means for her and Inuyasha's relationship.

--

One Word by @anisaanisa (T)

Summary: Sometimes, all it takes is one word. A love story told in 100-word drabbles.

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A Rude Awakening by born4eachother (T)

Summary: Inuyasha's reaction as he walks in on Akitoki Hojo trying to kiss a sleeping Kagome. Based off of episodes 137-138 of the anime.

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Sweet On You by InuRiotGrrl (E)

Summary: Modern AU InuKag. Angry cop meets sweet little baker. Should he destroy her business's reputation, or can they make amends? Will she ever be able to melt his heart?

Plenty of fluff and sweet moments. You better have cavities by the time this one is over!

--

A Kiss As A Yes by @yurawiththegoodhair (NR)

Part of the 50 Kisses Collection of one-shots. EDIT: PREVIOUSLY INCORRECTLY LISTED AS TUMBLR EXCLUSIVE now links to the AO3 collection - don't forget to subscribe!

--

Your Name by @clearwillow (G)

Summary: Inuyasha has a reason for everything he does.

--

Maybe It Isn't Evil by @ruddcatha (G)

Summary: Inuyasha has a love hate relationship with the well, because it keeps taking Kagome away from him. When Kagome has to return to her time to face the dreaded yokai Ek-zam, Inuyasha seeks to protect her, and gains a new perspective on the well.

--

(May)be Mine? by @fandomobsessions016 (E)

Summary: To win a bet, Kagome and Inuyasha team up to convince their closest friends that they are not at all interested in each other. Not... at... all. Totally platonic. One hundred percent.

--

Constellation Consolations by @cannibalsforbreakfast (G)

Summary: Since she's returned to the Feudal Era, Inuyasha notices that Kagome's always sleepy. What's keeping her up so late?

A sweet little post-marriage InuKag story.

--

Stay by @akitokihojo (G)

Summary: He nodded again, pulling away to gently press his forehead to hers for a moment. "I get it." Inuyasha breathed before leaning back to look her in the eyes. "But, one of these days you'll understand that no matter what happens, I won't take a damn thing back. You'll see that I don't want it back. I feel like my heart's safer with you, anyway."

--

Puppy Kisses by @superpixie42 (M)

Summary: Prompts and ficlets too short to have their own posting. Short and sweet like puppy kisses. Collection is rated M but stories range from G-M: there is a descriptive author's note at the start of each chapter.

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For You by @sarah-writes-stories (M)

Summary: They were mocking him. Each and every one of those tiny chocolates in that disgustingly cute square box. They were just sitting there… taunting him… and he hated it. Because Kagome was his, dammit, even if she didn't know it yet. (A sexy-sweet InuKag AU two-shot in honour of Inuyasha Valentine's Day and White Day over on Tumblr.)

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When It Rains by @dawnrider (E)

Summary: Modern AU: Kagome gets caught in the rain leaving work. Cursing her luck, she tries to wait it out. Her luck takes a strange turn when she runs into her crush from college. None other than Yash Inukai. And he's very pleased to see her...

--

More Than Words by @mamabearcat (E)

Summary: Inuyasha had made a new life for himself in Australia, far from his humble beginnings in Nishinari, Osaka. It was almost like he was a brand new person - as far as anyone knew, he was just a humble barista who made damn good coffee, and that's how it was going to stay. Kagome led a busy life, committed to her career as a Tender Coordinator in an NGO. She barely had time for herself, let alone getting out to meet someone. Sometimes she wondered if it was only the caffeine that kept her going. Kagome loves coffee. Inuyasha is a barista. Sounds like a match made in heaven right? Only she speaks very little Japanese, and he’s just beginning to learn English and trying to make a new life for himself without the dangerous complications of his past. It’ll take a little work, but love is more than words.

--

Puppy Love by @lemonlushff (T)

Summary: He had been her best friend for five years, ever since he moved in next door when they were eight. Now…As everyone else is growing up around them, she just wants him to make a move. She just wished she hadn’t blurted it out like that.

--

Mistaken Intentions by @fawn-eyed-girl (T)

Summary: When Inuyasha overhears Kagome's wish on a dandelion to be with him always, he's confused. Aren't they already together, committed, forever? He decides to try and figure out what she means, and how to tell her how he really feels.

--

Oh, But You're Good To Me by @witchygirl99 (E)

Summary : It’s a terrible photo, really. The action figure takes up the entire bottom of the screen and part of both of their faces. Shippo’s giggling though, eyes shut and crinkled in his mirth while Inuyasha looks at him. His expression is clearly fond. It’s the softest Inuyasha has ever, ever seen himself. This is fatherhood, he thinks a little wildly. He sends the photo to Kagome. Inuyasha is a single father. Shippo is his adopted son. Kagome isn't supposed to be in the picture, but somehow, she returns anyways. A story about family, love, and all of its obstacles.

--

Chocolate and Raspberries by @neutronstarchild

Summary:  Dog Days Ice Cream Shoppe was an institution in Inuyasha’s little neighborhood. It wasn’t just the shop that he’d inherited from his mother, it was also his uncanny ability to guess anyone’s favorite ice cream when they came into his shop. But when two new faces arrive (a brother and a sister), whispering about being able to afford kid scoops, Inuyasha realizes, much to his horror that he cannot guess the woman’s favorite. Little does he know that this woman, Kagome Higurashi is going to change his life as much as he is about to change hers.

[tender-rosiey]

congrats on 1K WOAH WOAH????!! U DESERVE IT😤😤🖐

im with a ranpo brainrot so could i request the 1k prompt??

idk if im doing this right but-

Prince Ranpo from Bungou stray Dogs. My favorite couple activity is having a casual date indoors (does this count as a couple activity?) (also, i would mean as a casual date both of us playing horror games or watching horror stuff) (sorry if it is too much detailed! feel free to ignore anything that makes u uncomfuy!) and the timestamp is 23:45 pm

[11:45pm]- Watching Horror Movies

↳ 【Ranpo Edogawa】

ᴀ/ɴ: thank you, love! I really hope you like this and hope you have a day as wonderful as yourself 💕 I don’t remember if I used this before but yeah, it’s pretty and ranpo will like it so it shall stay ✨

“Y/N, I got snacks!” He says while holding a large number of bags with said objects in them. Ranpo cheerfully hands you your bag of favorite treats and snacks and takes the other dozen for himself, “Ranpo, I really have no idea how you didn’t get cavities until now.” He just shrugged, casually munching on his share with no care “You are gonna jinx it and I am gonna end up in the dentist tomorrow.” You couldn’t help but roll your eyes with a smile.

You both had planned for this movie night prior with 4 days and had decided to watch a horror movie this time. That’s why the preparations were easy to make and put to place now, a couple of blankets and a cozy atmosphere; what more would you need?

Oh yeah, maybe some tolerance to jump scares and horrifying scenes. By your luck, the movie you chose wasn’t something just a little scary, but rather a movie that a lot of your friends had screamed in fear as they told you about their own experiences, and you wanted to see how you would do with it.

Your worst decision really.

Though luckily for you there’s a reason why you have boyfriend, and that is to comfort you and protect you from these devious scenes. Of course, he had figured and known before that horror movies weren’t your forte; that’s why he was ready for any moment that you jump into his arms so he can stop you from torturing yourself for something that isn’t worth it.

It isn’t that long until you finally onto your lover and bury your face in his chest when the scenes just keep escalating, with him only being able to smile sympathetically and softly suggest “Let’s watch something else, okay love?” And who were you to decline such an offer, though too bad for you, your pride didn’t let you surrender easily as you protested and insisted “No! I can do it!”

The movie had a different opinion though, which is exactly why it had displayed its scariest jump-scare right then and there making you shriek and take cover using your boyfriend. “…okay, we can watch something else, just because you want to; obviously I am not scared.”

A honey dripping laugh erupted from Ranpo as he patted your head affectionately “Okay then! What do you wanna watch?” 

Maybe getting scared shitless was worth it if the outcome is your boyfriend being 5 times more affection.

taglist: @magenta-cat-drawingss @pompompurin1028 @scul-pted @dazaisdeathwish @requiem626k @nameless-shrimp @shinys-bsd-world-1 @bsdparadise @ravenina14 @jessbeinme15 @todorokichills

copyright © 2020 tender-rosiey

do not copy or plagiarize or you will be reported

[tartagilicious]

sun and moon > xiao

happy (late-ish) valentine’s day yall! thank you, mihoyo, for once again reminding me that i’m easily attached to emotionally unavailable pretty boys. the "I hate everyone but you" trope is real here, I wanna be his friend and gain his trust like this is a mf otome game. to anyone still pulling for him, good luck~ don’t worry, you have a little bit more time and more free rewards are also on the way!! have some soft xiao for good luck >:D // w.c 1.9k // not a request 

also a big ty to @seerie​ for being my beta reader, bc I don’t know what I’m doing 🥴

summer sky by asking for a friend

You hiss softly as Xiao runs a damp cloth over the gash adorning the length of your cheekbone, face scrunching as his eyes narrow in concentration. It feels somehow wrong to have him taking care of you, much less sitting in front of you and dressing your wounds himself.

A majority of the bleeding had stopped not long ago, but there's still another fear that plagues you more -- your agreement with the yaksha adeptus, or rather contract, specifically trying to combat injuries on your behalf.

You aren’t sure if chickening out on calling him in the midst of the situation you were hurt is grounds for breaking the contract somehow, though either way, Xiao has always seemed to be quite serious regarding his promises. You remember his first and only instructions to you weeks ago being clear and concise,

“If you awake to a knife at your throat, if monsters dig their claws into you, if death comes knocking at your door, call out my name; adeptus Xiao. I will be here when you call.”

Surely a small wound like this wasn’t serious enough?

Xiao pulls the fabric away from your face and silently notes what must be the mess of blood covering it, lips turning up in a grimace. His standards of emergency are usually as one would expect, though lately for whatever reason, even the smallest of your wounds tend to put him in a bad mood.

From such a standoffish person, it’s a bit hard to get used to or understand -- but a part of you is only happy to know that there’s a chance he might care more than he lets on.

“...The abyss mages, they just came out of nowhere,” You try to explain but the silence is deafening. Eyes downcast to the stool beneath your legs, you mumble, “It’s not that big of a deal.”

Xiao doesn’t give any more of a reaction than an arched brow and a slight gesture with the gruesomely dyed cloth. You half expect him to be irritated; to give you a lecture on keeping an eye on your surroundings or to take better care of yourself, but he doesn’t. Instead, he looks away and shakes his head, spiking your nerves with a low sigh.

He looks back at you as he rests his elbow on his knee and thrusts out the cloth again, almost in exasperation. “Why didn’t you call my name?”

You feel the blood drain from your face as the words leave his mouth, and suddenly, you’re terrified to answer honestly. As already long-established, Xiao is someone who despite thousands of years of trauma, remains as hard as the rock of the nation he watches over. Compared to his lifespan, you’re relatively immature, so the last thing you want is to give an embarrassing reason to make him think that you suddenly don’t trust him enough to help.

“I-I don’t know,” You stutter and curse pitifully inside your head as you return his eye contact. “But I can’t just call you every time I’m in trouble, especially when I think I can deal with it myself, right?”

He scoffs as if you’ve just said the most ridiculous thing.

“This shouldn’t have to be a discussion. Your capabilities don’t lack anything, but your hesitation may very well be the death of you.”

“I never hesitated,” Though your voice is more steadfast, any illusion of confidence is shattered by the way you fidget with your hands. “I only misjudged. I make mistakes sometimes, but I think you forget that I’ll heal even after the worst of these injuries.”

Xiao sighs and crumples the bloodstained cloth in the palm of his hand, caging himself in his arms before speaking again -- just as he always does.

“Don’t be outrageous, I haven’t forgotten anything.” He averts his gaze and for a moment, you swear that you notice the tips of his ears flush. “It’s only ignorant to assume that I want to see you injured.”

Your brows knit as a similar knot slides down your throat. “I just, I just don’t get why you’re so worried about it.”

He stares at you, once again, as if you’ve just said something completely outlandish -- as if it wasn’t as hard to tell what he was thinking beneath such a guarded personality as you made it out to be.

“What?” You ask, slightly exasperated as you sit up straighter. You had still been sitting as if he were cleaning your wounds. “Is that not a valid question? It seems like you want nothing to do with anyone, but then turn around and worry when I’m hurt?”

“How could you do that and still not know why I hesitate to call for you?” Exasperated, you exhale and shut your eyes for a moment, deliberately avoid seeing his reaction to these words.

“...All I mean, is that sometimes it’s hard to tell what you’re thinking -- I feel like I’m bothering you, even if it might be in a situation where I really do need you.”

For a moment, Xiao is blatantly surprised by your reason for not upholding the contract you’d made. It almost gives you the impression that in your spiel, you’ve said something completely idiotic. A gradual flush of embarrassment flares up beneath your skin, but thankfully, you contain yourself before you have the chance to blurt out anything you’d regret.

His lips twist ever so slightly, as if he’s combing through things to respond with in his head. Obviously a bit flustered to hear your reasoning, it’s odd to see him in such a way, albeit while somehow remaining so uniquely him

“You… really are incomprehensible.”

Turning his head to shield his expression, he discards the cloth by tossing it in a nearby basket and stands. Your eyes follow him up until his own turn back towards you, golden irises glinting with a sort of hesitant concentration. You blink.

“If you trust me enough to enter a contract where i very well might decide between your life and death, do well and also trust me as someone who doesn’t break their promises.” Xiao’s brows fold delicately, as if mulling over the words coming out of hisin real time. “___, I don’t want to see you hurt like this.”

Your heartbeat briefly stutters, lips opening and closing as if to say something even when no thoughts are formed. Eyes trailing back down to your hands, you let out a small sigh. Before you can say anything, though, a gloved hand takes your chin and gently guides your eyes back upwards.

“So don’t hesitate.” His touch is soft as he maintains comfortable eye contact with you despite the straight-forward words. “I won’t allow you to die because of me.”

Blood pumps wildly through your ears as you suck in a breath of apprehension. As hard as you try to break away your gaze, something in his face keeps you anchored even when your chest begins to seize; a face that has been hardened over a millenia of suffering stares back at you with the improper care of a hopeful innocent, as if you are something that is worthwhile in the purest sense.

You swallow, Xiao’s hand’s position above your throat making it painfully obvious to him how caught off guard you are. Though naturally, if this action of yours makes him falter at all, he does so unnoticeably.

“I won’t,” It’s said slowly, as if you can’t comprehend what exactly you’re saying just yet. “You said I don’t lack anything, but in the moments I do--”

Your lips rest parted as anxiety cuts off the last part of your sentence, but Xiao’s patient expression pushes you forward.

“...I trust you to help me.”

Those words echo in his mind for a moment, ricocheting and hitting even the most unfamiliar parts of himself that he’d long buried. Feelings and memories that have since collected cobwebs begin to resurface and remind him of a more simple time he treasures dearly.

Trust.

Xiao’s thumb ghosts over your jaw, slowly wiping across the skin as he’s propelled deeply into thought -- fortunately too much so to notice the rising pigment on your cheeks.

He himself places his trust in people far and few. You might be different, well acquainted to human customs and the world around you, yet those words from you somehow feel just as special as if the roles are reversed. Your honesty and courage to accompany him has always dug at the cavity in his chest, but to hear you voice the metaphorical fruit of your labour so clearly is an entirely different sense.

All this time he’d blindly protected you, warned you about monsters lurking in the darkness, he’d fallen too far to even realise that you were beginning to change him. He no longer ate alone, nor did he adventure or sleep as he once did -- you had stuck onto him like a stubborn thorn despite, in your words, tending to feel as if you were bothering him. Regardless, he had somehow still earned your valuable companionship, and with it, commendable words that he could accept from you alone.

But there were times where he despised feeling such a way. He battled over the reasons he felt so inflicted when it was you who was injured, or you who chose to stick by him even after he tried so desperately to push you away. It was frustrating, dealing with a gentle care so foreign. Once he was used to your considerate nature, though, it became a different story.

Seeing you hurt began to shift from an expectable casualty to a blow to his own chest.

“...Xiao,” Your voice is hesitantly quiet, and suddenly, his eyes come back into focus. You’re staring at him with hesitant concern, setting his heart abuzz. “Are you okay?”

It’s when you reach up to wrap your hand around his that his mind finally completes his thought.

I love her.

As an Adeptus, he’s lived thousands of lives and outlived many more, and has taken the role of slaughterer before protector throughout many of them. In a way, the latter ways of his previous life have been ingrained him, regardless of those he manages to save in the more current centuries.

He imagines the figures of the spirits of those he’d wronged watching him in this moment, screaming a sound of contempt that he would never hear. They’re right to do so. They have no reason to pray for his happiness, much like he has little reason to pray for forgiveness.

Yet looking down at you, for the first time in a long time, none of that seems to matter.

With little thought, he grips your hand a bit tighter before letting go, his own hand travelling the length of your jaw to bring himself down to you. You remain completely still as he places a gentle kiss above your brow bone, breath hitching.

“I’m okay.” He reassures you quietly, resting there for a moment and sighing a small gust of air onto your skin. You mumble his name softly, hand reaching out to grab a hold of his shirt. The thin layer between your skin and his sends a sudden shiver down his spine, but regardless, he hums in response.

Your voice comes out in a whisper. “Are you sure?”

He nods, for the first time completely certain.

[shig-a-shig-ah]

GOOD CLEAN FUN

» pairing: chisaki kai x fem!reader

» cw: noncon, somnophilia, oral sex, medical kink, needles (brief mention) 18+, minors DNI.

» a/n: Quirkless AU! This was written for the BNHA Degeneracy 9 to 5 Server collab.

» wc: 5k

» ao3 mirror

Dentistry is a disgusting profession. It makes Chisaki's skin crawl, the poor care people take of themselves, and he frequently regrets being pushed into this family business of staring down filthy gullets all day, though he takes sadistic pleasure in refusing to be gentle with the worst of his patients. Why should he be, when they obviously have such disregard for their own health and hygiene? No, in those cases he takes great satisfaction in ripping the rot out by the root with nothing but pliers and his own brute strength.

Some days, though...some days there are patients like you, who make it all worth while. Patients who are clean.

You make yourself such an easy mark too, though Kai had expected as much after Kurono so slyly told him that he'd probably want to take care of the new patient in room two personally. Hari wasn't wrong; you're trembling when Kai enters the exam room, staring wide-eyed at the tray of neatly-arranged stainless steel instruments next to the chair in which you're reclining, fingertips gripping at the armrests. You're chewing at your lip too, as though your nerves weren't already apparent enough, those perfectly white, straight teeth digging into your plump lower lip in a way that's practically obscene. Even without a closer look Chisaki can tell what good care you take of that cute little mouth, and it's enough to send his cock twitching.

He takes a seat on the stool next to you as he introduces himself, careful to keep the excitement from his voice and to squint his eyes just right so that you'll know he's smiling even behind the surgical mask he wears, the one that both protects him from those much filthier than you and keeps you from seeing just how cold that grin really is. Your own smile is much more obviously forced, but he likes that you try - it's endearing that you're working hard to be brave even when you look close to tears with anxiety. Of course, he also likes that you're scared, likes that extra little bit of power over you, and that it will make all the easier for him to take advantage, because he's already decided he has to have you.

It's impossible for you to remember how or why this dentophobia started. You can only remember being dragged kicking and screaming to the dentist as a young child, your mother scolding you for refusing to behave. As you got older you managed a little more self-control, but while you can force yourself into the chair, you can do nothing to stop the way you shake and your heart races. It's only made worse by the obvious annoyance you face when practitioners have to deal with you; you know they think you're stupid or immature for this reaction you can't control.

The man before you, however, is smiling sympathetically, gold-flecked eyes crinkling with concern in a way you appreciate. He's handsome even with half his face covered, all bright eyes and perfect dark hair, and your cheeks heat up when he asks if you're nervous. You force out a meek nod, and he chuckles softly.

"No need to be self-conscious. It's a common fear," he says. "But we do offer sedation, if that's something you're interested in. It can help with the nerves."

Your brow furrows slightly. It's not an option you've been offered before, hadn't even realized it was a possibility. "Sedation? Like, put me under?"

"No," he says, chuckling softly again as he turns to the monitor by the chair and starts scrolling through what you assume is your file. "Nothing as severe as that, at least not for a routine cleaning. Just a little nitrous oxide to help take the edge off."

That you have heard of, but always thought it was only used for more intense procedures. "That's laughing gas, right?"

"That's the colloquial name for it, yes. It'll numb you some and help you relax. Although it might make you a little giggly, as the name implies. Some of my patients even enjoy it." Your face heats up again when his intense gaze lingers on you, not just with embarrassment this time, and a small titter escapes you.

Chisaki can't believe his luck with you, if he's being honest. You're exactly his type, and as he expected your dental records are flawless - never so much as a cavity. He's confident too that you'll accept what he's offering with as anxious as you are, and your reaction to his presence. He's not surprised by that; Kai knows the effect he has on people when he tries. Probably he doesn't even need to go through the great lengths he does to get people like you into a compromising position, but he enjoys the process. It's easier this way, with access to medical records so he knows what he's touching, and an army of sedatives to ensure he's perfectly in control of these encounters.

You only deliberate for a moment before nodding and giving him the answer he knew you would. "Okay, I guess I can try it."

The smile he gives you this time is actually genuine as excitement blooms in his gut. "I think you'll find it really helps," he says, daring to rest one hand on your forearm briefly. Even through the thin latex of his gloves, he can feel that your skin is soft, and he feels another pang of anticipation. Then he stands up. "I have to supervise the sedation, so I'll take care of your cleaning and exam personally. I'll be right back and then we can get started."

Your chest is still tight with anxiety as he situates you, arranging a strange mask over your nostrils and instructing you to breath deeply through your nose, but once you catch the scent of that slightly sweet gas being pumped into your lungs, the effects are almost immediate. The tension in your chest abates, your whole body going light and tingly, and suddenly you can't remember what you were ever so afraid of. When Chisaki tells you to open wide, you don't even hesitate, doing so immediately and sticking your tongue out slightly, making an exaggerated 'ahhhhh' sound and then giggling a little, though you couldn't say why.

"I can see it's working already," Chisaki says. He's unable to keep the breathiness out of his tone this time, but he trusts you're too distracted to notice. The way you'd opened so obediently, and the sight of your little pink tongue poking out lewdly has his cock hardening already, and he's only barely begun. He can't stop himself from reaching out, pushing that wet muscle back into your mouth with one finger, letting it linger on your tongue a moment longer than necessary to feel the heat of it before pulling away, but you only giggle at the slightly inappropriate act.

Despite his straining erection begging for relief, Chisaki still has a job to do, and he works with well-practiced efficiency as he goes through the process of cleaning your teeth. The anticipation is as much a part of this as anything else, and he'd be lying if he said he didn't enjoy the buildup. He's not a masochist by any means, but these little self-denials are gratifying, only serve to make the end result that much sweeter. Still, he can't help but find himself occasionally distracted by the way you laugh every time he gives you an instruction to open wider, or tilt your head, noticing the way your chest bounces slightly beneath your tight top, and how you lie with your legs slightly spread, so inviting.

Normally he waits until he can render patients like you truly helpless before he touches them, recommending elaborate procedures that they don't realize are entirely unnecessary, but then again most patients don't request or accept sedation for such routine procedures as this. He reaches over to the tank of nitrous oxide, increasing the dose slightly and watching as you slump a little more in the chair, and then he reaches out to trail one gloved hand up your thigh and over your clothed center.

You've barely felt anything this whole time, aware of him working at your teeth but not really registering it, too overwhelmed by the way your whole body feels pleasantly tingly and numb, and it's only after he's ceased fussing over your mouth that you start to notice another sensation, a building tension between your thighs that makes you squirm, a small whine escaping you. Your eyes, closed to defend against the bright overhead light, flutter open, but you can't see him hovering over you anymore.

"We're almost finished," Chisaki says calmly when you whimper again as that slight pressure continues to build. "I just need to enter some notes in your file, and then finish the actual exam."

From out of your line of sight he can see the way you're frowning, your cheeks puffing up slightly with discomfort and arousal, obviously confused. He presses his fingers more firmly against your clothed cunt, palming himself through his pants with his other hand. It's bolder than he'd usually be, but for once he's struggling with restraint, just can't bring himself to wait until he's found some excuse to render you more wholly unconscious in his chair.

"I just...I feel a little funny," you whimper, and then giggle again.

"That's normal," he says, continuing to massage your sex, noticing the way your hips twitch when he strokes over just the right spot. "Some people feel numbness, or a little pressure. As long as nothing hurts, there's nothing to worry about."

You nod, letting your eyes fall closed again. You can't quite help your thighs from twitching; it's a strange feeling, the knot tightening deep in your stomach even as you feel so numb and tingly, and when it intensifies further you feel a stab of shame as you realize exactly what's happening, that you're going to cum even as you try to hold yourself back.

Kai knows it's risky, that all you'd have to do is turn your head and open your eyes to see his straining arousal, but he can't stop himself from working his pants open as quietly as possible and stroking himself properly as he watches the struggle on your face, the way you bite at your lip and obviously try to ignore the sensation, apparently ready to believe this is some spontaneous reaction to your drugged-up state and not his fingers working over you.

Despite the fact that you try to resist the sensation, the tingling in your body intensifies around your clit until your legs are shaking, the walls of your cunt fluttering around nothing and a mortifying whine escaping you. Through your giddiness, however, the humiliation is short-lived, nearly forgotten the moment you find yourself giggling at your own orgasm.

The sight of you quivering as you cum, entirely unaware of his hands on you, only further erodes Kai's patience. "I just need to take one last quick look," he says, and then without waiting for your response he's releasing his cock momentarily, using gloved fingers from both hands to pry your mouth wide again. You squirm slightly when he forces those fingers deep in your mouth, but he removes one hand just as quickly, returning those spit-soaked fingers to his throbbing shaft and fisting himself more urgently. If you can hear the faint wet sounds the action brings, he trusts that you won't question them.

Fuck, and he's close already, the sight of your pink tongue lolling against his fingers only sending the coil in his gut tightening further, and he shoves his fingers a little deeper towards the back of your throat, feeling the muscles there spasm as you gag at the invasion.

"I'm sorry if this is a bit unpleasant," he says shortly, too caught up in the way you look with his fingers probing your mouth to maintain that congenial tone. Even through the gloves he can feel the heat and wetness of your mouth, and it sends shivers down his spine. "This should only take a minute. You have a small mouth - it's difficult to see with your tongue in the way."

He presses his fingers further, not sure why he's explaining himself when you're so obviously unbothered. You're only nodding, spit running down the side of your chin as you salivate around his fingers. On most anyone else he would find the sight nauseating, but seeing your innocent face so debased only spurs him closer to his release. He squeezes his length more tightly, letting the spit-slicked palm of his gloved hand rub over his tip with every stroke, the fingers of his other hand continuing to invade his throat while you simply lay there and take it, and when you finally let out a moan of real distress at the feel of his fingers in the back of your throat, it's enough to send him over the edge, his cock spasming and hot spurts of cum shooting into his gloved hand.

The moment his cock stops twitching he withdraws his fingers from your mouth, stripping off his fouled gloves and tucking himself back into his pant before you can so much as open your eyes. When he turns back to you again, you're staring at the ceiling, grinning slightly with shiny, wet lips.

It takes a few minutes for your head to clear once he removes the mask from your face, and by then you only have the vaguest sense that anything about the experience was strange, and even then it was still vastly more pleasant than any of your prior dental experiences, albeit embarrassing in a slightly different way than usual.

Chisaki waits for you to seem cognizant before drawing your attention to the monitor by the chair. His boldness in touching you did little to truly satisfy him, only made him more eager to fuck you properly, to feel the heat of your tongue against his cock instead of his fingers, and to bury himself in that cunt that responded so sweetly to his touch.

"Your teeth are mostly in good shape," Chisaki says. "But I'm afraid you do have one small cavity. Here, see?" He points at one of your x-rays on the screen, a perfectly healthy tooth but he's confident you won't notice that, that you don't know what to look for, and sure enough you're only nodding, eyes wide. It's adorable, that fearful look on your face. He almost wishes there were a way for you to keep that expression when he has his way with you. "It's only a small one. But I'd recommend a stronger sedative for it, if your nerves are that much of a problem."

"Stronger?"

"It requires an IV," he explains, "and you wouldn't be able to drive yourself home afterwards. You'll still be conscious, technically, but you won't be aware of much."

The idea of having your tooth drilled into already has you quaking, the last traces of your buzz gone, and you agree at once. "Okay. I guess I can ask my roommate to drive me." She probably won't mind; you two do each other favors fairly regularly.

Kai's glad to hear you don't mention a boyfriend. It wouldn't matter in the end, if you had one or not, but the idea of some other man's hands on you still sends a jealous, possessive stab through him. He prefers to believe that he's the only who's touched you, that there aren't others out there tainting you with their filth.

"Great," he says, giving you another one of those reassuring smiles. "Let's get you scheduled."

***

It's a matter of days before you're back again, Kurono having conveniently found a 'cancellation' in the schedule to slot you in. He knows all about Kai's proclivities of course; they've worked together for years, well before Chisaki took over Overhaul Dentistry from his adopted father, and they've known each other even longer. Hari's stayed to watch Kai's little indiscretions once or twice, though he's more prone to lurking outside the door to listen shamelessly, knowing full well that Chisaki has no interest in sharing and would never permit him to touch what he considers his.

Chisaki is practically shaking with impatience by the time you arrive, has to take a few deep breaths to steady his trembling hands before placing the IV and pumping you full of Propofol. He's not sure he's ever been this excited about a patient, but this time around the eagerness has been killing him. He's always considered his libido healthy but not excessive, but he's stroked himself off more times in the last few days that he usually would over the course of a month, waiting for this.

You blink slowly, counting backwards until your words trail off and your eyes fall closed, and then Kai stands up, taking in the sight of you limp before him. You wore a dress today, a summery little thing that buttons from top to bottom, almost as though you'd known what you were coming here for.

He's already hard, his erection straining against the constricting fabric of his pants, but he ignores it for now and focuses on undoing those buttons, savoring each additional glimpse of skin. Your underwear is simple, white cotton panties with a hint of lace around the edges, and a matching bra. He likes them, simple and clean, just like you.

One gloved hand lifts to cup your breasts, kneading that soft flesh and then finding the bud of one nipple and rolling it between his fingers, sending it hardening. He watches your face as he does so - you're not entirely unconscious, but you won't react much, and you certainly won't remember this. Your brow is furrowing just slightly under the attention, and when he moves to toy with your other nipple he hears the faint sigh you let out, takes it as encouragement to shove that garment out of the way and reveal your pert breasts, licking his lips at the sight of the slightly darker skin of your nipples, and the way they've puckered under his attentions so invitingly. He bends and takes one in his mouth, laving his tongue over that stiff peak, biting down lightly.

A little whine escapes you this time, and the sound sends spike of heat through his cock. He knew you'd be responsive to him after the last time, but you're already exceeding his expectations. He tips his head slightly, staring at your mouth, those slightly parted lips.

He's never felt compelled to kiss anyone, all too aware of the filth present in even the cleanest of mouths, but as he stares at your lips he's surprised by the urge to do so. And he knows the risks are minimal, spent more than one of the last several evenings reading through your medical records, giving them a much more thorough evaluation than the release form you'd signed probably warranted. But he couldn't help himself, and now he knows that you take good care of the rest of yourself just like you do your mouth.

He leans forward curiously, encouraged when your lips press just a little back into his, even as your eyes stay closed. He lets his tongue snake out to trace over your mouth, probing between those lips, and you let another soft whine, though your tongue doesn't respond to his. That's okay; it's more enjoyable that he'd have expected and he deepens it anyway, relishing your taste, minty and sweet - obviously you'd prepared yourself for him. He grasps one of your hands and brings it to rub against his cock, panting as he ruts into your palm.

When he finally breaks the kiss, he's equally parts disgusted and aroused by the thin strand of saliva that connects your mouths, staring at it in fascination until it breaks.

That uncharacteristic impatience rears its head again, and Chisaki fumbles with his pants, letting his cock spring forth. He wraps your hand around it briefly, savoring the feel of your small, soft hand caressing his length, and then he moves on just as quickly. It only takes the flick of a switch to lower the chair down so that you're at waist level, and then he's tilting your head towards him, pressing the tip of his cock against those spit-slicked lips. You surprise him by poking that pink tongue out just a little, and for a minute he simple brushes the head of his glans back and forth against it, relishing the soft brush of your wet tongue, and the pleasant jolt it sends through him.

"You're a little tease, aren't you?" he whispers. Then, he pushes forward into the hot cavern of your mouth, swearing under his breath at the feel of you. You gag reflexively when he bumps against the back of your throat, but he only pulls back briefly and surges forward again, one gloved hand coming to rest in your hair gently, holding you in place as he fucks your mouth.

It's not tight without you actively sucking, but it's hot and wet, and the velvety texture of your tongue against him is more than enough. Despite trying to be gentle at first, he finds himself thrusting more roughly as his excitement grows at the sight of his length disappearing between your sweet lips, stroking your hair when you gag harder.

"Shh, now," he scolds to your unresponsive body. "Be good and take it."

It's almost as though you're listening - your head tilts back slightly to accept more of him, your throat contracting around him, and before he can help himself Kai's hips are bucking, his balls tightening and his cock contracting as his load spills down your throat. When he pulls away he can still see the last of his seed coating your tongue, and he spreads it around with his gloved fingers, entranced by the sight.

He adjusts his clothes a bit, not done with you just yet, and then circles around towards you feet. His gloved hands wander up along your thighs, squeezing at that soft flesh, and then tug you down towards him - mindful of the IV still buried in your arm - until your legs dangling off the edge of the chair. He spreads them a little, running one finger over your clothed slit. There's a damp spot at the center of your panties, and his eyes fix on it with great satisfaction.

"You really are eager, hmm?" he murmurs, letting the pad of his thumb hone in on your clit, the outline of that puffy bead visible through the damp cotton. You let out the faintest of whimpers, your hips tilting into his touch slightly, and Kai lets out a shuddering breath before bending forward and burying his face between your thighs, letting his lips move lightly over your covered cunt, catching your clit between his lips to tease your barely-conscious form, earning another soft whimper. His cock is swelling again already at those little sounds, and the scent of you.

Forcing himself to pull away, he works your panties down over your hips and off completely with eager fingers, his eyes fixing on your bare cunt. Your positive to response to his touches is all the more visible now, glistening strands of wetness coating your folds. He uses his thumbs to spread you open, circling your clit with two fingers as he stares at your entrance and letting out a throaty groan when he can see your hole clenching around nothing.

The sight of your perfect cunt so greedy for his cock is entrancing, and he repeats the motion. You're not the first person he's done this with and you certainly won't be the last, but oh, you just might be his favorite, so eager for him. He'd known you were special after that first encounter, but your response to him now is better than he could have imagined a few days ago.

He slides two fingers into you, scissoring them gently to ready you for his cock. He can hear the way your faint breathing has sped up, the skin across your chest darkening slightly as you grow flushed from his efforts, and when he removes his fingers they're coated in your slick. He stares at them curiously, tempted again by new desires, and then slides them into his mouth, savoring the taste of you, sweet and quite unlike anything else.

The throbbing in his cock is growing unbearable, and though there's a part of him that wants to draw this out, wants to savor it, there's even larger part that's desperate to feel that tight hole clenching around him. He shifts you again slightly, bringing your hips to rest at the end of the chair, the contours of the leg rest making your back arch nicely, those perfect tits even more on display, and he takes one in hand as he aligns himself near your entrance, pinching at your nipple hard enough to make you whine.

There are condoms in the pocket of his sterile white lab coat; he's normally vigilant with the protective measures, loathe to expose himself to any unnecessary risks, both hygienically and in terms of leaving evidence behind, but he's tempted to forgo that now. The notes from your last yearly doctor's visit stated you're not sexually active, and he thinks it must be true, that an innocent thing like you is too sweet to lie. Of course, because of that you're not on birth control either, but even that doesn't bother him like it should; it excites him even, the thought of his seed taking root and the surprise that would bring.

He runs his bare cock over your damp slit experimentally, groaning at the unadulterated sensation, and that's enough to convince him to abandon his usual precautions. Kai thrusts forward into your wet heat, letting out a strangled moan. Your cunt is so tight, so hot around his length, and god, it's so much better when he can feel it all, the intense wetness of your cunt creaming around him and every tiny ridge of your velvety walls. The way you whimper when he forces himself into you makes him wonder if perhaps he didn't prepare you quite enough - your walls are fluttering around his cock, obviously struggling to accommodate him, but it's not until he's nestled deep inside, the head of his cock kissing your cervix, that he pauses to let you adjust.

You squirm a little - small, feeble movements - and Kai relishes each slight shift of your body, watching your lips twitch. It's obvious you're trying to speak, but in your drugged up state all that spills forth is barely audible nonsense, tiny whines with a pleading undertone. He reaches forward to stroke your hair from your face. "You're so needy," he scolds, "but don't worry, I'll take care of you."

With that, he pulls out until just the head of his cock is still trapped in your cunt, and then drives himself forward roughly. Your limp body bounces back at the force of his thrust, your tits jiggling slightly with each of his movements, a sight he adores. He lets his fingers circle your clit again, can feel the way your cunt immediately clamps down around him in response, as though you're trying to draw him even deeper, and he gladly obliges you, slamming himself as deep as possible every time. You whimper more loudly than you have yet, and he can just make out your eyes trying vainly to flutter open, never quite succeeding.

"You take me so well," he pants, the feel of your slick walls gripping his cock so tightly has his balls tightening again, and he slows a little, trying to prolong the inevitable, not ready to be done with your sweet pussy just yet. He leans forward clumsily latch his mouth around one of those erect nipples, sucking and nibbling, noting the response brings, you throaty noises coming more quickly, the slight twitches of your hips growing more violent.

"So well," he murmurs again. No one's been this responsive before; he's lucky, honestly, if he can ever coax his patients to orgasm, but your cunt is flooded, obviously ready to cum for him, and it's enough that he loses the last of his restraint, rolling his hips furiously, railing against your cervix with every thrust in a way that's sure to leave you aching once you're fully aware again, but he can't bring himself to care. He wants to feel your release, feel you gripping his cock more tightly if such a thing is possible, and wants to fill you up with his seed.

"Are you going to be good and cum for me?" he asks breathily, and after another minute your body answers his question, your cunt clamping down, a quiet, high-pitched whine issuing from your throat as you hole constricts. Another few stuttering thrusts and his own cock is spasming, pleasant throbs radiating through his core as he drives into you one last time and cums, swearing at the almost unbearable tightness of your cunt around him.

For a moment he remains buried there, relishing the last throes of your orgasms and the way you're still occasionally pulsing around him. When he pulls out, he frowns at the distasteful mess his cum makes as it leaks out of your gaping hole, but it's accompanied by a shiver of satisfaction at the evidence of how he's claimed you for himself. Still, he moves on almost immediately to cleaning up, slipping on a fresh pair of nitrile gloves and tucking himself back into his pants before digging out a handful of papery dental bibs and using them to clean away the mess he's left between your thighs. Of course, there's nothing he can do about the evidence he's left deep inside, but even that he still finds titillating, the thought of his cum dripping out of you even after you've left, of your cute, confused face as you try to understand.

You barely stir as he goes about this process, only occasionally shifting slightly or mumbling a little, and by the time he's replaced your clothes you're lying still, the tiniest frown is on your lips. It's almost as though you know your time together is coming to an end, and you don't want to go. Chisaki glances from you to the needle in your arm, and the still half-full bag of Propofol suspended from the IV stand. Now that he thinks about it, he supposes there's no real reason to rush you out of there.

"Hari," he calls out, and he's unsurprised when the door to the exam room opens almost immediately, knows how Kurono likes to listen. The other man looks at him questioningly, gaze flicking between Kai and your sedated form reclining in the chair.

"Yes, Kai?" he asks, raising on pale eyebrow.

Chisaki smiles behind his mask. "Cancel the rest of my appointments for the day."

[caiminnent]

rest in peace [pre-slash kylux, rated Gen]

PROMPT(S): forgetting to eat (@badthingshappenbingo, 14/25) & for @headwig1010

SUMMARY: Kylo is ready to perish for the sake of opening his grandfather's holocron if that's what it takes.

Hux won't have it.

FANDOM: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy

TAGS: Pre-Star Wars: The Force Awakens, Canon Compliant, Protective Armitage Hux, Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Slash, Mutual Pining, Holocrons (Star Wars), I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping

1.2K || ALSO ON AO3

It’s not working.

It’s not working.

It’s not working.

It’s not working.

It’s not kriffing—

The holocron bounces off the durasteel with a clatter, rolling to a stop by the door.

He presses the heels of his hands into his sore eyes until he sees white, a scream lodged deep into his lungs. He just—he just doesn’t understand. He’s been meditating on it for over a week now, trying to get a feel for the ridges and cavities, to find an opening to sink his metaphorical nails into and rip the holocron open. Nothing so far. The Force surrounds the dodecahedron evenly, as if the box were all of one piece. He couldn’t even pinpoint where the kriffing lid is.

The urge to take his lightsaber to it grows stronger the longer he sits on the floor, but he wouldn’t disrespect his grandfather’s memory like that. If the holocron doesn’t open for him, he must be unworthy of the information inside it. He needs to try harder.

Stars, he’s so tired of trying.

On the other side of the door, the access panel beeps six times in quick succession.

Kylo jerks his head up from his hands with a crack in his neck as the door hisses open, his heart slamming in his ribcage. The blurry darkness clouding his vision gives way to Hux in the entrance, a mouse droid trailing in behind him.

Kylo’s stomach growls at the sight. Has he really been at it that long?

Stepping briskly inside, Hux pauses by the holocron, glancing down at it with a curl of his lips. An odd image of Hux kicking the box away with a sneer rises unbidden in Kylo’s mind, unease slithering through him, the Force coiled in his fingertips to call it back—

Hux half-kneels to pick it up. The tension eases off Kylo’s shoulders.

“It’s not going well, I presume?” Hux says, rolling it between his gloved hands. The sight of his elegant fingers around the gleaming crystalline tugs at a knot in Kylo’s chest. For the briefest moment, he imagines the box opening in Hux’s hands, his grandfather’s hologram appearing to them, imparting the wisdom it holds to both of them like a post-humous benediction.

Hux looks at him, raising his brows in expectation. Verbal answers, right.

“No,” Kylo admits, clearing his throat. Nothing is.

Hux nods once. “Time for a break, then,” he says with the finality of an order, pointing the mouse droid towards the table. It wheels over with a happy beep.

Grabbing the side of the couch, Kylo pushes himself up. That pins and needles feeling crawls up his legs immediately. Wincing at the sensation, he stumbles towards the refresher for his more pressing needs first, avoiding the mirror at the sink. If the sight of him however many days ago was enough to make Hux take pity on him, Kylo doesn’t want to know what he looks like now.

When he returns, Hux is already seated in his usual spot—Kylo should hate that Hux has a usual spot now, he really should—with two trays cooling on the table. His mouth waters. Even the mess chow Hux brings over is more appetizing than the ration bars Kylo’s been wolfing down when he remembered to.

Why Hux cares to keep him from withering away is still beyond Kylo. Given the man’s tendency towards overwork, he wasn’t sure Hux himself bothered to eat or sleep regularly, let alone concerning himself with Kylo’s wellbeing. It can’t be an order from Leader Snoke, either; his Master never particularly cared how hard Kylo pushes himself so long as the mission is accomplished.

He could ask Hux—if he weren’t so afraid of the answer.

They eat in silence, Kylo inhaling his dinner while Hux idly stirs his soup. When Kylo’s done, Hux switches their trays without a word. The holocron sitting by Hux’s free hand keeps drawing Kylo’s eyes, a temptation and a taunt both.

“Leave it for today,” Hux says. Kylo’s gaze snaps up to find Hux watching him with an odd look—one Kylo could call gentle on anyone else, though he doubts there’s a comforting bone in the General’s body. “Don’t push yourself further. You can try again tomorrow.”

The taste in Kylo’s mouth turns bitter. Stabbing at a cold protato wedge, “I’ve been trying for ages,” he grinds out, his appetite giving way to churning agitation in his stomach. “I can’t keep failing him like this.”

“Failing whom, Leader Snoke? Or Darth Vader?”

“Both.”

Hux folds his arms over the table, leaning closer. “Leader Snoke is too concerned with his own power to care for a dead man’s secrets, Ren—and your grandfather wouldn’t want you to work yourself to the bone over them.”

Wouldn’t he? Wouldn’t he want a grandson powerful like him, strong in the Force like him—a man worthy of the legacy Darth Vader left behind? “You didn’t know my grandfather.”

“Neither did you,” Hux points out, not unkindly. “He was already dead when you were born; he can’t have locked this holocron as a challenge for you. He won’t be proud of you for cracking it.” He tilts his head to meet Kylo’s downturned gaze. “Let me ask again: Whom do you think you are failing, Ren?”

Both of them, Kylo wants to repeat in his stubbornness, though it feels like a lie now. Neitherisn’t the answer, either. In truth, the wave of failure and disappointment that washes over him doesn’t come from any one direction; it comes from everywhere at once, overwhelming him, drowning him.

He shrugs weakly in answer. At Hux’s raised brow, “I don’t know,” he mutters into his tray, hackles raised. “Are you quite done with the interrogation? I’m fucking drained.”

“That was my point,” Hux says with a smug half-smile. Kylo itches to wipe it off his face. “All right, how about we make a deal?”

“I would trade my left arm for you to stop asking questions.”

Hux chuckles, signaling at the droid to clear out the table. A weight seats itself under Kylo’s ribs. “Well, to your luck, I had something much simpler in mind. We will stop with the questions for now, as is your wish. In return…” He picks up the holocron again, thumbing a splatter of soup off it. “I’m holding onto this until you’ve got your answer.”

Irritation spikes in Kylo, dread curling in his guts. Can’t Hux make one thing simple? “What do you care?” he spits, damn the consequences. “What does it matter to you if I kill myself over this?”

Hux clicks his tongue in disapproval. “We said no questions,” he reminds Kylo, pushing his chair back with a scrape. The droid rolls over to his side like an obedient pet. “Come and find me once you realize why you can’t open it. After that?” The holocron disappears in a wide pocket of Hux’s trousers. “I just might have an answer for you, too."

[randomtwstuff]

TWST - What They Hate + Why

Warning: kinda long, definitely unnecessary. Don’t mind me.

Riddle - rule violations; it’s been explained in his backstory in chapter 1 but he’s had basically every part of his life formed around obedience and following rules set out for him, so it makes sense that witnessing someone else go against that sort of thing would probably set him off

Trey - not having brushed his teeth before bed; Listen. I honestly have no idea why this boy like his teef so damn much. But thinking about it, him being around sweets all the time probably makes him wary of getting cavities. So there’s that.

Cater - sucking up to his older sisters; Completely understandable from a younger sibling’s standpoint.

Deuce - limited time sales; Another one that’s hard to understand without character context. But to me, this reflects on his inability to think of solutions in a pinch, and how stressing such situations probably are for him.

Ace - indecisiveness; Boy likes having a plan. Can’t argue with that. Also, his quickfire personality definitely contributes.

Leona - playing with children; And yet, he’s still a beloved uncle. But in all honesty, someone who radiates this strong of a tsundere vibe will automatically be reluctant to involve themselves in overtly emotional situations, such as anything dealing with kids.

Ruggie - being at a disadvantage; My boy’s from the streets, and most definitely has been in enough bad situations to warrant not wanting to experience such a situation again.

Jack - fighting without reason; He’s got a strong sense of justice, and works hard to get anywhere - especially grades - so doing things without a worthy reason or otherwise wasting time over starting drama and fights is against his personality. Good good boy.

Azul - relying on luck; He’s worked extremely hard at everything he’s ever done to get where he is now, and relies on his own learned methods and tools to get jobs done. So, it would make sense that relying on luck, or witnessing someone else rely on luck (and even worse, succeeding), drills directly into his being.

Jade - predictable and expected things; He and Floyd have said time and time again that if Azul were to become boring, they would leave him. And although Jade doesn’t have nearly as erratic a personality as his brother, they are close enough in motive that his sense of adventure and excitement would prevent him from being around anything overly boring - thus his trips up mountains and collecting weird mushrooms.

Floyd - shackles; I’m uncertain if this means shackles as in the object, or shackles as in he hates being restricted in any way, but I feel like it might be the second one. Floyd is a very, very free spirit whose ever-changing personality makes him unpredictable in every way. So, it fits that any method of restraint - mental or physical - would clash heavily with him.

Kalim - eating by himself; Why would anyone ever let him be alone??? My poor boy???? Alone??????????!?!?AaaaaaaAAAAA - But in all seriousness, it makes sense considering he’s probably spent a significant amount of his life surrounded by people, and the idea of having to go to a meal (or probably anything) completely alone would make him sad.

Jamil - touching bugs; Now, is it just the touching part, or do bugs in general...bug him? sorry not sorry Because both the situation of him calling in someone else to take care of a bug - maybe Yuu - because he doesn’t want to be anywhere near it should it try to crawl on him, and the situation of him freezing up at seeing one or shrieking when one lands on him are just so fucking funny. (I don’t really have any explanation for his feelings toward bugs since a lot of people hate bugs.)

Vil - intentional negligence; I had to look this word up I’m so fucking dumb Vil takes things like self care very seriously - even if his ‘routine’ is a bit lengthy and he seems harsh at times about it - and as such having to witness someone intentionally leaving themselves in a state of disarray because they simply don’t care about it would very much tick him off.

Rook - people intruding on his private life; He is a hunter. With a wall of mystery photos. And an album full of other mystery items. It seems he has no problem with other peoples’ privacy, only his. Probably because a lot of his things are weird. I still love him though

Epel - being mistaken for a woman; He wants to be ‘manly’, and as such, being called the supposed ‘opposite’ would be a blow to his attempted persona. Boy wanted to be in Savanaclaw, after all.

Idia - face-to-face conversation; Since we don’t have any other information as of right now - he’s an introvert. Who spends so much time inside, with only Ortho as his physical company, that talking to anyone in person terrifies him. Honestly, I feel like there may be more to this than just introversion, since he is quite possibly one of the most extreme cases I’ve seen in a character, but who knows, he could just be a stereotypical otaku-nerd-man character (like Levi!)

Ortho - lightning; I don’t really know enough about him to make any assumptions other than that, he’s a robot - or what many people have headcanons of, a cyborg - who runs on at least some form of power source, with its own generated energy. Lightning generates an absolute fuckton of electricity, and a human being struck by it can a.) hurt a lot, b.) permanently damage their body, or c.) fucking end them, so a robot/cyborg being struck by it - as machines being struck by lightning have shown - would be annihilated. Completely valid fear to have.

Malleus - using machines; He’s probably very old, being a fae and all, and although Lilia has shown that they play videogames and watch TV, he very well may have been raised away from it - although, he was raised at least partially by Lilia himself, so either they were both introduced to machines later on and Malleus was the only one who struggled, or he just never got used to them.

Lilia - losing things; I am unaware of any backstory to this, but it is a very valid thing to hate. I do it all the time, so it’s very relatable.

Silver - sleeping away his time; Seeing that he has been shown to fall asleep at random - possibly narcolepsy, or something else we’ll find out about later - and also him being a loyal knight to the current prince, it makes sense that the former would interrupt his duties as the latter. You can’t exactly protect someone if you’re knocked out. I mean, unless you sleep-fight. Then you’re good.

Sebek - being considered a nuisance by the Young Master, whining; I find his undying loyalty to Malleus adorable, to be honest. Having this much of a senpai crush going on would definitely make any negativity from said senpai hurt quite a lot. But what does it mean by whining - does he himself hate whining, or does he hate it when other people whine? Maybe both?

[hideawayintheimaginationworld]

I adore your fazbear fright house au and would love to hear of lefty fixes bonbon for funtime Freddy but of course take your time that's just my suggestion for the boredom thing

Funtime Freddy knew he had been outside all night, he was sitting with his back against the house, his eyes shifted focus from place to place, like this garden outside, obviously which was not to be disturbed by him, he didn’t know if Lefty was the one who planted things or if this was someone else's place to do things. He knew Millie wasn't the only one living here, he didn’t bother to remember everyone, he remembered that kid Alec because he had the audacity to drop a stack of plates on his head once, he also knew about Sarah because of Eleanor mentioning her in every sentence, like it was an obsession.

Funtime Freddy always thought she was slightly creepy.

He preferred Ballora honestly.

Actually, he hadn’t seen her in years.

He couldn’t hear anything inside the house despite he knew he was outside of the kitchen, he didn’t know what Lefty was doing inside that house generally, he had seen enough of Lefty to know coming in uninvited was a big mistake. He couldn’t tell if Lefty locked him outside, he was slightly wary if he tried to open the door, he'd be met with an angry black bear.

The only thing that bothered him was how lonely BonBon might be. He hadn’t seen BonBon in years and he just gave them to Lefty, with a possible loosely veiled promise of repair. He would have liked to keep him but he wouldn’t argue with Lefty.

Dark had turned to light, he watched the sunrise above, lighting everything, seeing everything in a new light, he could see a tree that was showing flowers, the flowers themselves were coloured bright red, this whole garden appeared well kept, he could see the grass on the ground was cut down to size.

The sun had brought everything into perspective, how much time passed, and where he was exactly in this world.

He had always thought of the sun as a clock, being able to tell roughly the correct time by looking at its position high in the sky, a skill he had with some pride.

He started to wonder how long it would take, and how long he'd be outside for, he wouldn’t leave without BonBon at this point, he felt like an unreachable goal was now within his grasp and he didn’t want it pulled away now.

But the anxiety was killing him in a way.

The door finally opened and Funtime Freddy hurriedly got to his feet and backed away, Lefty came outside, he looked at Funtime Freddy almost inquisitively, “I thought you would run away. You've been outside for over 12 hours.”

“Not without BonBon,” Funtime Freddy answered.

“Well you've been out here for hours, I didn’t even think you'd sit still.”

“I have some self-control.”

“Not a hell of a lot though Funtime,” Lefty sneered, closing the door and standing near the doorway, clearly so he could go back inside quickly just in case, Funtime Freddy always noticed people would like to stand near the door whenever they were around him as a means to get away quickly, which indicated just how well-liked he was.

“Have you looked at BonBon?” Funtime Freddy asked him.

“Not really, it's a normal day for me, I haven’t gotten a spare minute until now, I wanted to see what you were doing.”

“Nothing!”

Funtime Freddy to Lefty sounded like a whiny child, which he had heard plenty of those, Funtime Freddy's voice, in particular, was grating to his ears.

“I need parts.”

“What?”

“I need parts to fix BonBon,” Lefty further explained, “And tools, ideally I'd need new parts, I don’t even know if some of the parts I might need are still being made.”

“That doesn’t really matter.”

“Yes, yes it does. We aren’t from the same generation, your exoskeleton is made of coiled wires that bend and move like snakes under the skin, my body is an advanced exoskeleton that is tough to break, you have a chest cavity, I don’t.”

“Wait you don’t?” Funtime Freddy frowned, he assumed because Lefty was just as big as him that he had some sort of storage tank in his abdomen somewhere.

“No, I don't,” Lefty repeated.

“What have you got then?”

“A lot of complicated mechanisms, that all simultaneously work around the clock, Henry builds the most advanced machines, the only reason why I can’t ever get rid of you for good is that William made you have almost the same strength level as me. Henry made us with the intentions to act as security guards.”

“How do we know Henry didn’t copy anybody?” Funtime Freddy asked.

Lefty turned sour, “You're asking that despite what you are? We aren’t the same. You are a dressed-up cage for children basically,” He jabbed his finger at his chest.

Funtime Freddy looked at his finger poking at him, then he looked at the house and remembered something.

“Speaking of children....”

“At school,” Lefty answered immediately, “They're all out of the house, I told them about what happened.”

“Even... Millie?” Funtime Freddy asked, not knowing if this was a question he shouldn’t be asking.

“Yes, I don’t want her safety threatened by your presence, I have a set of rules regarding her and the other kids that I want you to obey.”

Funtime Freddy should have expected this.

“Don't talk about death, ever, I don’t care if it's hypothetical or you think it's funny, you're not funny, no one wants to hear that,” Lefty said.

“Okay.”

“Do not ever enter the house unless you are invited in, and I only want you downstairs, you can be in the garage, do not go upstairs ever, if I catch you up there, I will throw you downstairs.”

“What if I have to?”

Lefty frowned, “What? Why would you need to?”

“Say Eleanor shows up, for that other girl... um, Sarah right?” Funtime Freddy suggested.

Lefty was silent before responding: “Then come to my room, it's the first room, do not go into anyone else's room, especially Millie's, are you clear now?”

“Yep.”

“This should go without saying but I know because of how much a nuisance you can be if you even make a threat to anyone, this little deal we have, is null and void.”

“Understood!” Funtime Freddy gave him a thumbs up.

“If I can’t fix BonBon, then you need to accept it.”

Funtime Freddy's happy demeanour dropped, “What?? But-”

“You aren’t modern neither is BonBon, there is a chance BonBon will require parts that are now obsolete,” Lefty explained.

Funtime Freddy shook his head, “Then I'll look in the Scrap Yard, I've found all kinds of things there, I could find–”

“I understand you want BonBon fixed, but this isn’t a guarantee, and I'm holding you to our deal, I will be fair, I expect you to be also.”

Funtime Freddy gave a smile, he saw Lefty immediately narrowed his eyes at him, so he stopped smiling.

“You are covered in filth,” Lefty told him, “Would you protest to being cleaned up?”

Funtime Freddy shook his head, he knew he hadn’t been washed in years, he knew Lefty was probably getting cleaned regularly, as he didn’t even have so much as a bad smell on him and he appeared very well groomed from top to bottom, Funtime Freddy knew he was covered in dust, dirt and other stains like paint, grease, and oil.

Lefty turned and opened the door, he then stepped aside, “Come in, but when I say leave, go back outside, no complaining.”

Funtime Freddy didn’t push his luck with a snide remark, he sped walked inside, Lefty closed the door and Funtime Freddy looked around more in the kitchen.

His eyes briefly rested on the knife block, before realising that looked bad so he looked at the dining table instead, seeing a folded newspaper there, along with a black coffee mug, which he presumed was Lefty's.

Funtime Freddy then looked around, he expected to hear something else aside from his exoskeleton loudly creaking and shifting with the movements of his neck— he could honestly do with a slight maintenance check, but it wasn’t urgent.

“Are you the only one home?” Funtime Freddy knew he said the kids were out but he knew some adults were living here too.

“Matt's bedridden, he picked up some sort of virus, he's been throwing up everything he eats, Stanley had the day off and said he'd deal with him, and Delilah been spending time with this new man she met, means I can catch up on some chores, then have some tea.”

“The kids don’t do any chores?” Funtime Freddy questioned the situation.

“They do the simple stuff, like washing dishes, washing clothes, mopping the floor... I mean the more intense chores, like cleaning all the carpets which usually takes a few hours, cleaning the oven...” Lefty explained.

“What can I do?”

“Sit in the kitchen, be silent, I'll clean up stuff.”

“What about BonBon?”

“I'll get around to it later,” Lefty shrugged, “If I have time.”

“BonBon isn’t an it.”

“Whatever, the thing is valuable to you, not me.”

Funtime Freddy felt offended by that, and he countered, “It's the same as you and Millie! You look out for her!”

Lefty stared at him coldly before answering, “You do realise you just compared your relationship to what is your friend to that of me and the girl you traumatised? Do you not realise my point of view now? You are the monster that terrorises her, Millie is still a child, her parents are overseas, her grandfather is elderly and he can't protect her from you, she hides behind me because of fear, oh but you wouldn’t know what real fear feels like? Would you?”

Funtime Freddy went silent, he then walked over the dining table and sat down on one of the chairs, he felt completely uncomfortable.

[enrychan]

Burakovsky fanfiction recs

ok so I read every single Burakovsky fanfic on AO3 (no, really) and I started thinking about writing down a list of those I particularly appreciate. because the Patho fandom is tiny, and the Burakovsky fandom is even tinier, but there are a lot of incredible talents in it, and they deserve all the recognition we can muster.

I apologize to those who did not make it into this list, unfortunately I can’t read Russian (for now... that might change in the future😏) AND I have very specific tastes. Which is why some authors are repeated more than once (sorry!). Also I’m following at least a couple of beautiful fanfics that are currently unfinished, and I’m probably gonna include those in the next list.

You’re all extremely talented though, and I hope to read more of your works very soon (do I refresh the Burakovsky tag each day? yes I do)

anyway here’s my list, in no particular order! Enjoy all the love, hate, death and philosophy!🥰

In Vivo by meradorm. After a long silence, the Haruspex travels to the capital to seek out his old companion.

Arguably the best fanfics in the Patho fandom; and one of the best fanfics I’ve ever read. The writing style simulates the first translation of Patho Classic, which was weird and sometimes almost incomprehensible, but somehow it enhanced the odd, alien experience of the first game. Using this particular and sometimes difficult language, this fanfic gives the impression of being an integral part of the original story. The characters and the love story are beautiful and raw, sweet and cruel, and the ending is so... so perfectly Pathologic it makes me angry. Prepare lots&lots of tissues because you’re gonna cry your eyes out!

How cleverly the trap is made by Modlisznik. "My apologies." Daniil clears his throat. "Usually I reserve views like this for at least fourth, maybe fifth date."

Ok yes I’m going to recommend a lot of fanfics by Modlisznik, I just really really like their style. This is one of my favorites because Daniil is so in character, trying his best to appear strong even while in pain and almost blind with one of his migraines... and I’m always weak for Artemy being sweet and caring for Daniil. Just *chef’s kiss* excellent

Of the Town and the Steppe by Modlisznik. Artemy wonders how Daniil feels about this vastness, autumnal grass as far as the eye can see, the sky so clear, hanging so low, so close you can almost touch it, you can almost get swallowed whole. Insignificant, a little speckle on the face of Earth. Daniil is a creature of the city, Artemy thinks, of clear boundaries, of walls to hide behind, of places to be alone in. He must feel exposed. I'm a bad host, Artemy thinks.

Just a romantic, intimate moment between our two idiots out in the steppe. Daniil imagining all the places in the Capital he would like to show Artemy is so unbearably sweet I think I’ve cavities now. Totally worth it though.

All about Blood by Modlisznik. Daniil is aware that Isidor has been murdered just a few days ago. That his memory is still fresh, his touch lingers in this place. That Daniil, an intruder, shouldn't come down here to Isidor’s workshop - his laboratory - his sanctum - and most certainly, he shouldn't be here to fuck Isidor’s son. Even less, to use the elder Burakh's table for that purpose. He's aware of that. He also doesn't care.

Hot damn. This fanfics pushes all my buttons at once and then dances on the keyboard just to be sure. Artemy/Daniil kinky sex? Check. On the stone table in Artemy’s lab? Check. Subtle power games between the two? Check. Artemy marking Daniil with his blood? Check. A sprinkle of bondage just to spice things up a bit? Check. Um... is it just me or it’s kind of hot in here?

The Line of Red by Modlisznik. Bachelor Dankovsky does not believe in luck. Artemy wants him to understand, that the charm he's offering will protect him - just not in the way Daniil thinks it does.

Another sweet moment brought to you by or Official Sweetheart Artemy Burakh: Artemy wants to give Daniil something to remind him that he’s not alone, even in his darkest moments, that Artemy is his tagloor. Daniil doesn’t understand all that steppe folklore, but recognizes a precious gift when he’s given one.

Something old, something new by Modlisznik. In which Artemy considers the importance of not being watched, and Murky's doll needs urgent medical attention.

Just an adorable fanfic and a joy to read from start to finish. Artemy is best dad, Murky is best daughter, Daniil is back with a new title, and I’m always ready for some teary-eyed happy reunions.

Bloodflood by Xyloto. A flood of blood to the heart.

Artemy is used to be on top, and the relative new experience of being on the receiving end doesn’t start particularly well for him, but he is determined to let Daniil have what he wants. Daniil has other ideas on the matter. I have a thing for “top that bottoms for his bottom”, and especially in this case because this fanfic is written beautifully. It keeps all the more abrasive traits of Artemy’s personality&speech, while remaining very sweet and romantic somehow.

A Curse Befalls Your Heart by CurrieBelle. Daniil Dankovsky suffers from a Steppe curse. Burakh performs triage.

Speaking of sweet and romantic, are you ready for a good bucket of literal honey? This is my comfort fanfic, the one I return to every once in a while when I need something soft and lovely to shut off my brain. Not only that, but the story is awesome too, because it is based on an actual canon curse in the Patho lore. Remember when Anna Angel was cursed with the “returning heart” in Patho 2? What if something similar happened to Daniil? Luckily, Artemy is there to help.

Ode to the Body by kylee. In which Bachelor and Haruspex flatter each other shamelessly.

The Powers That Be have always destroyed Daniil’s self esteem by reducing him to a list of failures. Artemy wants him to understand that he’s not just his failures, nor his accomplishments, but so much more. Sex ensues. Praise kink anyone??? (yes please)

life overflowing by Yellow. Artemy needs someone to look at what he's done, to see he's done well, to take over for him, his head and his heart. just for a little while.

This is both lovely and kind of heartbreaking, with some suicidal tendencies/ideation? I feel it is completely appropriate after all Artemy has gone through by this point in the story. But Daniil doesn’t have any intention of letting him go.

Vae Soli by Adoxography. Daniil becomes Artemy's unwilling caretaker when Artemy is infected with the Sand Pest and is forced to take a Shmowder to cure himself, or die in the attempt.

There are a lot of sick fics in the Patho fandom (obviously), but I particularly love this one because it doesn’t embellish the pitiful state of Artemy, caught between two terrible ailments, nor makes Daniil appear too soft and generous. There is rivalry between the two idiots (as it should be), but also trust and even some attraction on Daniil’s part. In other words, it rings true and believable!

sub derma by Jagged. Dankovsky takes to the Town better than he thinks, but less than he'd like. Artemy would know.

Super sexy fanfic! dom!Daniil turns Artemy on with some pain play which Artemy is only too happy to be subjected to. I just love the power dynamic between the two, it’s visceral and even a little bit cruel at times, but the absolute trust they have in each other makes everything weirdly romantic.

foreign bodies by hoverbun. They have some time to themselves between dissections and the sharing of alms.

So it turns out that I also have a Thing for fics about shaving. apparently??? Artemy has some free time and a beard to get rid of. He asks Daniil for help with that. And everyone knows there are few things sexier than a hot doctor with a very sharp blade pointed at your throat!

I hope you blink before I do by vespirus. Maybe he was fated to gravitate towards men like these; the men with loose morals, the men who understood what it meant to be an arbiter of life and death decisions, the men who felt the weight of the future on their shoulders. Or maybe he just had an inescapable interest in the macabre.

AU fanfic about Daniil as an unscrupulous researcher and Artemy as a medical undergraduate willing to kill to make enough money to keep living and studying in the Capital. In other words they are both horrible people, and the tension between them is so thick you could slice it with a knife. There also a sequel, but it’s a death fic and I personally don’t like that. I hope the author will write an alternative ending where they become an awesome couple of gay criminals in love sooner or later!

[anywhozits]

Or maybe there’s something better?

Rating: T

Words: 1736

Pairing: Kristanna

Summary: After the birth of their sixth child, Kristoff and Anna come to realize that maybe some skin to skin snuggling with their daughter is actually the most blissful kind of snuggling in the world. (here’s a link to part 1)

aka some cavity-inducing fluff to help with social distancing/quarantine woes :) 

The doctors and midwives finally leave the happy couple alone. They clean up the birthing chamber to the best of their ability, confident that after the sixth delivery in this birthing chamber they have it all figured out. She is stable. They are stable. Both Anna and the baby. So soon after the baby’s birth that Anna is still sticky with sweat.

Since then…since the three Bjorgmans are left alone… some period of time passes. Seconds, minutes. Hours, probably.

Time doesn’t matter anymore. Not when Anna has her new daughter skin-to-skin on her chest, not when Kristoff has one arm wrapped protectively around Anna’s shoulder, the other tracing every square inch of his child’s small body.

Her small body.

Their daughter, only two hours old. So new to this world.

And now she sleeps.

Their nameless daughter. Their perfect surprise.

They’d counted her fingers, her toes. Ten of each. Her hair—like Anna’s, for now. Deep red, auburn, specifically, still wet.

But she looks like her papa, too. Many features already unmistakably Kristoff. Her lips, her cheeks, her eyes, her jawline. Her nose maybe a perfect cross between the two of theirs.

She blows a little bubble with her mouth. Anna giggles. It’s cute.

Kristoff kisses the top of the baby’s head, right on her matted auburn hair.

They’re in awe. They’re in love. Their perfect little creation sleeps peacefully on Anna’s chest and she’s safe and wonderful and she’s theirs.

So, they stare at her. As intently as they can. They watch her every movement, however subtle. They count her breaths, watch her chest rise and fall and rise and fall. The way her lips curl, the way she opens her mouth in a tiny O, her little tongue escaping, flailing about clumsily in the air.

“You did so well, baby.” Kristoff squeezes her shoulder. Not exactly the first words he’s spoken since their daughter’s birth, but some of the first. “You’re amazing. I’m…” He kisses her cheek, chastely, lovingly. “I’m so proud of you.”

Her already-red cheeks flush even more. She looks down at their baby and then back at her husband, beaming so genuinely that her eyes are barely open. And then she lets out a breath. “I’m exhausted.”

He kisses her again, arm still wrapped around her shoulders, hand still resting on his baby’s back. “I don’t think I could do it.”

“You couldn’t,” Anna laughs.

“I just…It was so fast this time. You… you really—did so well. We only had to count to ten three times.”

“She really wanted out.”

“Eager, just like her mama.”

“Elsa would say it’s because she’s a Leo,” Anna adds.

Kristoff makes a noise that sounds a bit like a grunt. He typically follows any mention of astrology with an eye roll and a ‘that nonsense, again’ but when he looks over at his wife and sees that her eyes are shooting daggers at him, her bottom lip jutting out slightly, he holds back. Today, he lets it go.

Instead he thinks of Owden, their other Leo, and his eyes go wide. “Well…best of luck to us, then.” They love Owden, of course, but he’s a bumbling hyperactive wild child who can’t seem to sit still for more than 30 seconds. Prone to darting away from family and into crowds. Prone to playing extremely stressful games of hide and seek in the middle of the busy market. Prone to putting Kristoff on edge chasing after him at full speed, hoping to not return to the castle and admit to his wife that he lost their son somewhere in town.

Anna laughs. She’s never had to sprint after their son and it shows. “I don’t know… I sort of think she’s going to be…” Taking another look at the baby still sleeping on her chest, Anna ponders this, chewing on her bottom lip. “A real fighter. Like… of all our kids, she’s the fiercest. She’s gonna climb her way to the top of… something. She’s gonna be really strong. She probably already is really strong.”

“I like that,” Kristoff says. He brings some of Anna’s hair in between his fingers, twirling the sweaty locks around, knowing how much she loves it when he plays with her hair. “Fierce, like her mama. A regular fiestypants like her mama.”

“Aww, are you gonna be a little fiestypants, sweetie?” Anna’s hand rubs her daughter’s back. Their little girl sticks out her tongue again and both Anna and Kristoff go giddy at the sight. “I’ll have to remember to ask Elsa to do a full chart reading for her later.”

Kristoff doesn’t comment even though the word ‘nonsense’ is still playing in his brain.

“I need to say again, though, baby—you’re amazing. I know—it seems like it hurts so badly, but you’re so strong—”

“Like her!”

“And you…got through all of the pain and you’ve done that five times and once for twins and our—she was inside of you what—thirty minutes ago?”

“I think it’s been a few hours, honey.”

“But she was… inside of you. And you… did that.”

Anna nods, the whole concept of birth feeling like both a huge deal and also no deal at all. “Do you think this’ll be our last time?”

“Do you want it to be?”

“I don’t know,” Anna says. “I just… it’s hard for me to imagine. Not having more moments like this.”

She closes her eyes for a second, content, and then opens them to lock eyes with her husband. She smiles. He smiles back.

They both look back at their daughter. Her chest still rises and falls and rises and falls.

And then her small body stirs, tiny arms pumping little fists onto Anna’s chest. Arms stretching forward like a superhero, her mouth opens wide in a yawn. The cutest, daintiest, most perfect yawn Anna and Kristoff have ever seen.

Anna’s eyes prickle with tears and she laughs at this realization. “She yawned and I’m crying! I… I just love her so much. She’s perfect and you’re perfect, Kris…” Fat tears roll down her cheeks and she has to readjust. She picks up the baby and hands her to Kristoff, rubbing her eyes with the palms of her hands, trying to keep the steady stream of tears at bay.

Kristoff tries to hand her back to Anna but she shakes her head. “You hold her. It’s your turn.”

He places her gently on his chest, makes sure her little arms are properly positioned on either side of her head. That her right cheek is resting comfortably on his muscles. Now that she’s on his chest, he can really take in just how small she is. His hand is probably double the size of her head. Her whole body barely takes up the top fourth of his torso.

She pumps her little arms again, but now her curious eyes open, ready to take in the world. They look up to stare exclusively at the exact point Kristoff’s dark blue robe meets with the light skin on his neck.

Kissing him romantically on the cheek, Anna snuggles in close to her husband. She rests her head on his shoulder, sighs, and focuses her attention back on their daughter.

Anna basks in this moment of peace. Watching Kristoff’s large hands exploring their daughter’s fingers and toes and back and ears makes Anna’s heart soar. His mouth curls into a smile as he runs his hand over their baby’s nose.

He looks so… happy.

It makes Anna’s eyes sting with tears. How lucky she is to have this. To have them.

Soon enough, their daughter’s eyes flutter closed once again, no doubt feeling relaxed and protected by her papa, enough to drift off with such ease.

Seeing this, Anna knows there’s nothing better. Nothing better than this, here, now. Them.

Her family.

Her rock.

Her loves.

And then… she realizes something. It hits her viscerally, and she jolts a bit, enough that Kristoff notices and turns toward her. “You okay, darling?”

“Yes! I’m… more than okay. Because I have an idea!” Anna squeals, quietly enough to hopefully not wake the baby, but loud enough to get her point across. “For her name. Unless… do you have anything?”

“Oh no. Nope.” He shakes his head. “Not even a little bit. I’ve got nothing.”

“It’s Kirsti. That’s my idea—her name is…” Anna smiles. “I want her name to be Kirsti.”

“Kirsti? Hmm…” Kristoff takes it in, unsure. “Isn’t that a little, well—close to my name? Won’t it be confusing?”

Anna can’t contain her grin anymore. “No, that’s… that’s the point, Kris. It’s different enough to be… different. But. I want her name to be Kirsti because it’s close to Kristoff. I want to name her after you.”

“What?”

“I want to name her after you,” Anna repeats.

“You…” He’s in complete and utter shock. His mouth goes dry. “You want—why?”

“Because you’re…” She smiles, already tearing up again. “I love you so much, Kristoff, and you’ve made me a mother six times and I want our daughter to grow up knowing that she’s named after the most amazing person I’ve had the pleasure of calling my husband for the last ten years. And I want her to be her fiercest and strongest self and do the most fabulous things with that name of yours and—"

“Maybe she should be named Anja, then.”

Anna smiles but shakes her head. “No. Kirsti.”

He sighs, he kisses her cheek, and then looks back down at the newborn angel snuggled on his chest. “Kirsti.”

“It’s perfect, right?”

“You’re perfect.”

“Kirsti’s perfect.”

“You’re right,” Kristoff says. “She is.”

They smile at each other, then. Kristoff starting to give into Anna’s whims. Kirsti.

His heart does a thousand somersaults. Flattered is a gross understatement.

Because all his life he’s wanted this big family. All his life he’s wanted people to snuggle and hug and connect with. It took until he met Anna to finally realize this, but he knows for certain it’s always been there.

And now… there’s Kirsti.

Kirsti feels like proof of something.

Before he can control it, tears roll down his cheeks.

“Kirsti,” he says, looking down at her, watching her suck her fist as she sleeps. His tears grow fatter.

What he always wanted… here, touching his skin, relaxed against his chest. This really is the perfect snuggle.

[silverwhiteraven]

Oooh the Krypto-Bat + twins au sounds really interesting! I would love to see more of that if possible!

Krypto-Bat + Twins AU (For the Krypto-Mari AUs) [ Posted on Ao3 ]

Twins AU with Marinette and Clark, Aka, Kia Jor-El and Kal-El

They were sent from Krypton at the same time in separate pods/ships, and when they land on earth, the pods are separated enough to land in two different places

Kal-El is, as originally, ends up in Smallville, adopted by the Kents as Clark

Kia ends up in Gotham

Bruce is already an adult here, and already Batman, including having taken in Dick and potentially Jason as well

Batman is the one to find Kia, mostly because, ever-vigilant, he knows about when something is about to crash into the territory he protects and is determined to be the first to arrive before anyone else.

He takes her in because for one, ‘what the heck, a tiny child with super-strength is in my backyard’ and felt he lucked out with her not ending up in the hands of a villain instead. For two, he’s really curious about what she and her little partially-destroyed space pod are. For three, The Justice League hasn’t been formed, it’s not even a baby of a thought in Batman’s head yet, so he has no one else he trusts to be able to hand a super-powered alien baby off to, so, congrats, Bruce, you have a daughter!

Dick is like ‘oh heck yes, someone else to teach all the ways of being one bendy acrobat’

Also, Since Dick can’t get the Nightwing name from Superman (since there is no Superman yet) He has a different hero name, Blackbird

Jason is the dotting older brother type and none of you will change my mind

“Oh god the teething” will be something Bruce groans about in the future when talking about raising this child. First of all, she’s really strong, and develops her physical invulnerability early on, so you have this baby that will probably chew on the granite gargoyles around the mansion and all the batarangs in the cave

Kia, now named Marinette Wayne, spends a lot of her time with Alfred, so she learns early on how to seem like some all-knowing, all-wise entity, and how to control her emotions and outward expressions. They bats will learn to rightly fear her as much as they fear Alfred

Learning how to be a mini-Alfred doesn’t stop her from being fun, being absolutely sweet, or even a sunshine child. Alfred made sure she doesn’t pent up or bottle emotions, she learns how to deal with them in a healthy way and divert the bad ones into powering good ones

Pair that Alfred attitude with training to control her powers and, eventually, training to defend herself as well as fight, in case she ever decides to join the ‘family business’, and you have a force to be reckoned with, even from a young age

The Jason dying thing can either happen or not

If it happens, when he comes back, his rage about being ‘replaced’ can be lessened, considering he already knew the Robin mantle wasn’t meant to ever sit permanently on anyone’s shoulders

Hell, he even looked forward to the day Marinette would be offered the chance to take it up, he may actually rather be more peeved that it wasn’t saved for her before someone else filled it in

A new hero name Jason may potentially take is Cardinal. He takes it up either because dying never happened, so he never becomes Red Hood after Robin, or, he eventually rejoins the family and decides to take up a new one after dropping the RH name.

Damian coming around is going to be funny, here is why

Marinette and Damian would be about the same age at this point, so you have two ten year olds duking it out

One ten year old is trying to kill all the Robins

The other ten year old is trying to prevent the other ten year old from killing her brothers

Damian is a trained assassin that knew she had super strength because the LoA knows things it shouldn’t, but they also don’t have knowledge of Kryptonite or her invulnerability, so he isn’t prepared at all for her interference

Marinette is a semi-trained not-yet-vigilante with super strength, invulnerability, and a determination to pin down her new brother and tell him to stop trying to kill their brothers

She utilizes a lot of her knowledge from Alfred and gains some well earned but reluctant respect and wariness from Damian

All her pinning of him, something she only manages to do out of pure strength because her fighting skills are not as fine and sharp as Damian’s yet, allows for her to continuously rant to him about morals, her explanations of why he shouldn’t kill her brothers, and her thoughts on how terrible and inaccurate the teachings of the LoA are. He is forced to hear all of this, and, eventually, he actually listens

It helps that he also learns to stop attacking the other Wayne children because, with Marinette as their ever-vigilant protection and buffer, he has no hope of succeeding, so he might as well play nice

Damian still takes up the Robin mantle, Marinette letting him, as she has no desire for it yet

They’re both 15 when Damian decides to take off the Robin suit and, instead of continuing to pursue the Batman title as a ‘rightful heir’, wants to make his own name for himself

His new hero name is Starling

Marinette finally accepts the offer to be Robin

This is such bad news for the criminals, not going to lie, but so much fun for her, for the bats, and for us

First of all, the new costume

We all know about how the ‘traffic light’ might just be a way for Batman to be able to keep an eye on his kid while also making sure no one will hit them with their car when they run across the street like idiots without looking

But Marinette is invulnerable and also has enough fashion sense to demand she tine down the colors

She also has taken a liking to the idea of following in her dad’s footsteps and making her Robin look to be as dark, scary, and Cryptid-y as possible

So here is the suit:

The cape is black on the inside, the outside is an almost-black green that allows for blending into the foliage of all the ivy that grows all over the walls of the old buildings of the city

The eyes/lenses of her mask are gold/yellow instead of white, since it was the only place she was willing to add the color. It helped that it would create a creepy eye-glow effect

The body of the suit is black as well

The gloves and boots are a dark red, with an uneven fade into the black of her arms/legs. This causes an illusion of her having been walking through the blood of her enemies, while having also just removed her hands from the chest cavities of the last ones she dealt with. Obviously, she’s going for the scare-factor with that particular look, and Bruce is admittedly impressed with it, even if he disapproves of her making people think she doesn’t follow the no-kill rule

Over-all, the look is high-key intended to make her seem like a Cryptid, much like the Batman one is supposed to

Second! This is about the time all her other powers are going to be coming into the light

So Gotham and its criminals are introduced to a new Robin, and while it may seem nothing odd, they have another thing coming

Robin is suddenly creepy as hell, for one, especially with the dark and bloody appearance paired with the seemingly unnatural ability to be bendy and lithe

Robin is also much stronger, and a few of the smart ones decide never to engage her in combat.

Robin is also suddenly much faster than before, randomly at first, almost seeming to teleport. Rumor has it even Batman was shocked the first few times

Criminals started using insulated grips on their weapons because their weapons were getting unnaturally hot

Coats became common with the minions of villains, because hearing breathing from the shadows would sudden be accompanied by indoor breezes and temperature drops

Wait… is, is Robin, looming? Since when did Robin loom like that? When did they start being able to soundlessly move closer? Wait, hold on, since when did Robin’s feet not touch the ground??

They hate how suddenly they can’t hide things, either, Robin seems to know where they hid all their weapons, their explosives, their traps, their plans, everything

Evil people start hoping really, really hard that the shadow they just saw move is Batman, and only Batman

You guys get the idea, Marinette as Robin is effective and scary and no one outside the Bat Clan/Family know how she does it

Clark, over in Smallville, is dealing with all these new powers, too, and our thoughts go out to him not having as great an outlet for them as Marinette does

But hey! He becomes Superman at, like, 22, so we can skip right to that! In just a moment!

[Interlude: Hawkmoth.]

It is purely by accident that Marinette, 16 years old and still freshly mantled, finds him and ends up taking him down. It was supposed to be a very casual family trip to Paris, nothing more, and it went rather sideways for her instead.

The Justice League still has yet to be formed, so asking for help was simply hit or miss with wherever Paris sent the plea. The Waynes didn’t even know one had been sent to Gotham while they were gone, aimed at Batman, until after the family returned.

The family got caught up in the middle of a joint Akuma and Sentiminster attack, Marinette the only one able to escape fast enough to change into Robin. She joins the Ladybug and Black Cat superheroes in fighting, her presence both shocking and relieving them

She learns about her vulnerability to magic during the fight. She can take the physical blows just fine, but the moment she’s struck by a magical blast, she feels it like any other person. She got lucky that it wasn’t a terrible hit, or one with magical side-effects, but it did injure her, and painfully

The other heroes realize she needs more protection, and are able to offer her a Miraculous, which she accepts in an instant, not at all wanting to keep getting injured. After she transforms, the blasts no longer hurt her, and she can take the physical blows even better than she had before, not to mention she was loving the extra power-boosts on top of what she already had

No, using a Miraculous doesn’t hurt her or make her sick, because channeling or ‘wearing’ magic is different than being attacked with it (Plus, in DC canon, Superman is able to use magic items (it was a sword if I remember right) that can grant him powers and such. Having a vulnerability to something does not equal having a negative reaction to general contact with it.

“Just because a knife can cut you doesn’t mean you have to grasp it by the blade; grab the handle.” - SilverWhiteRaven)

Her X-Ray and 4-D vision powers start acting up, and this is where she purely by accident gets to see exactly where Hawkmoth and Mayura have hidden themselves while they wait the fight out. She does notice she can’t X-ray any of them while their Miraculous were transforming them, and she guessed it was another magic thing interfering with her abilities

As soon as the Sentimonster and Akuma are defeated, she informs the two local heroes about who she saw and where

They seemed uncertain, and a bit sad about the news, and guessed they may have had previously unknown personal connections to their villains

She helps them make a quick plan of action. They used the post-battle recovery time that usually happens, the short recharge period, to their advantage

The three of them storm the Agreste mansion together, and it’s all over before even a rush of adrenaline can kick in

Robin spends a short moment of time to monologue a rant on morality and heroism to the two defeated supervillains as their two abused Miraculous are recovered. She was pretty sure that by the time she finished her speech and left to rejoin her family, both heroes were looking at her like they had instant crushes

Ideas for the Justice League start up after learning about the hit-and-miss cries for help from Paris

[End Interlude: Alright, back to it!]

By 22, Marinette has gone through 7 years of being Robin, and also college, and she and Damian have joined Tim in running Wayne Enterprises. Tim can go take a nap now, and none of the other Waynes are going to let anything stop him

Marinette, the genius she is, has invested in Stuart Semple, the creator of Black 2.0, as her first move in the business, and that I will come back to in a minute

Superman reveals himself to the world, and, loandbehold, every member of the Bat Clan who are in on her secret recognizes that very power set he displays, and all eyes are on Marinette

She realizes, too, that suddenly, she isn’t the only one. Her escape pod was too damaged and missing too many parts after crashing to have given her anything about her original home, and now there’s Someone Else who might have answers!

Pulling herself together, she asks her dad to accompany her to Metropolis, all the way in Kansas (yes, I am doing that, it is way more logical to protect a whole country when the city you put yourself in is in the middle of the thing and not even over on the coast closest to Alaska and Hawaii)

Marinette, when she gets there, makes her way to the top of the tallest tower, Batman in tow as her overseer and moral/emotional support

She gets Superman’s attention by legit just yelling for him, because what else do you do from the top of buildings besides yell into the wind?

He shows up, a little confused, but mostly surprised by the sight of someone who looks a lot like him

She’s very nervous now, a bit scared that they’re wrong and that Superman isn’t like her, that they are nothing alike, and as she notices their similarity in appearance, is anxious about how high her hopes have suddenly become, and how far of a fall the disappointment will be. But a little reassurance from her dad in the shadows and she gets the words out

“Hi, I’m Marinette, and I was wondering- Well, I mean, I needed to know- Just- Wow this is hard, I’m not usually like this, uhm- Superman, are you- are we- did you come from the same place I did? Can you look at me, and- just x-ray me if you can do that, because I can, and if you can, too, that might mean… Well… Please..?”

His eyes are wide and disbelieving but he does it, he looks, and all the time that he, too, spent looking at himself with his X-ray and 4D vision, comparing his biology and it’s differences to that of humans, recognizes the traits of a Kryptonian in her. “Kia?”

Marinette tears up at his response, and chokes out, “I don’t know if that’s me, but please, I want to find out.”

Marinette is able to collect herself, as is Superman, enough to call Batman out of the shadows and introduce the two, explaining that Batman had ‘assisted’ (have to at least try to keep secret identities intact) in her raising and was simply acting as backup and support for her while she came to Metropolis

Superman invites her to visit the Fortress of Solitude with him, and she accepts, telling her dad to head home and, if things went well, not to expect her home for a few weeks, as she would be spending all of her time learning everything she could

There’s a lot of happy crying and comfort hugs the moment the Fortress welcomes her as Kia Jor-El, twin of Kal-El

Just like she warned Bruce, she spends weeks away in the Fortress, learning as much about Krypton as she can get

She listened to the holograms of her birth parents telling her stories, even the ones every Kryptonian child was told to scare them into behaving, or little tales told to teach morals. She didn’t care that she was already an adult, already knew all these lessons from human versions, but they were what she wanted to hear

Learning of old legends, gods, and mythical creatures were some of her favorites to hear, and she was determined to retell them to her family when she returned

She listened to a lot of kryptonian music, too, discovering it had just as much variety in genres and cultures as Earth

You can bet your bucks that she is going to be recreating Kryptonian instruments a to learn to use, as well as learn every dance the Fortress has recorded in its archives

She has a field day when she discovers there are kryptonian puzzle boxes she can recreate

Her favorite days, however, are when Clark comes by to check on her, finding her in the middle of the day, after yet another all nighter of reading Kryptonian non-fiction novels, and he orders her to bed. She doesn’t like the orders, but after the first time, she never complained again. Clark had left the Fortress after day three of them being in the Fortress, and came back to check on her a couple days later to find her sleeplessly tired and still reading. After forcing her to lay down, he convinced her to stay put if he taught her one of the lullabies he had learned himself. Now, every night he was with her in the Fortress, they either sung the Kryptonian lullabies together, to each other, or, fell asleep to the voices of their parents singing instead

Keeping true to the self-promise, when Marinette returned to Gotham, she excitedly told her family as much as she could

Dick, inspired by many of the stories, and wanting to pay tribute to his youngest sister’s heritage, asks if he can create a new hero identity

She happily agrees after asking Clark about it over the phone, and Nightwing is born

They laugh a bit at it, actually, considering that Robin’s colors are a tribute to the Greysons, and Nightwing is one of the Kryptonian Gods, and yet they’ve ended up swapped between them

Justice League time! This is my favorite part, where it gets into pure identity shenanigans

Give it a few more years before the whole idea comes together. Batman may trust his daughter’s brother, but he still needs to get to know him. They still butt heads often enough, but Marinette is a good, if exasperated, mediator that helps them settle down and come to agreements more

When the JL is finally founded, Marinette is 25, and Bruce is, in fact, only there for the official first day of it in operation

That’s right, Bruce retires!

After so long of fighting the corruption and crime of Gotham, there has actually been progress and improvement. Enough so that Bruce is comfortable with actually retiring as a field vigilante, instead joining the behind-the-scene bats by becoming Agent B

Who other than Marinette takes up the cowl of Batman?

She outright told Dick he can’t pull off the attitude for it, and even Damian could agree she was the best fit

There were, of course, questions of how she would hide the fact of Batman suddenly becoming a woman. After rolling her eyes and saying the fact that female armor doesn’t have to look feminine, she tells them that the answer was simple!

Stuart Semple

That’s right, Marinette was already planning to become Batman after her dad!

She also manages to convince Bruce to play a long-term prank on the JL, all the way from day one. What is the prank, you ask?

They don’t tell anyone except those within the Bat Clan that the cowl is being passed on, and no one will ever know that there was a new identity behind Batman

So, how is it pulled off? Like this:

For one, Bruce will reveal his identity as Batman as a sign of trust to the heroes of the JL

Then, immediately after, he will go home and hang up the cowl for good

Then Marinette is going to take out her redesign and take up the Batman role

The entirety of the new suit is going to be made with Black 2.0, and combining it with the cloak that will cover her whole body, a new full-face mask/helmet, full body armor, a speed that will keep pictures from getting clear pictures of even her profile, and her Kryptonian ability to masterfully manipulate her voice to keep the frightening baritones of her dad, her identity is securely secret, and the prank perfectly maintainable

Add in her own personal touch of changing the usual white eye lenses to gold, layering the cloak with a mechanism that raises and lowers the layers to allow for maximum looming height (where no one can tell if her feet are touching the ground) while also keeping it out of the way when crouching or keeping low, and you have a Batman that not only looks like a literal and legit void with creepy glowing eyes, but one that is going to be scaring the hell out of every single hero, too, when she walks by them in the halls of the JL

Really, it’s the perfect functional prank

It gets more fun every time she comes home from a mission and tells everyone about how her teammates kept commenting that they had worried about Bruce’s age, but with ‘him’ upping the scare levels and seeming to actually be improving in ‘his’ skills, speed, and strength, they find they have nothing to worry about

It’s barely a week in before she overhears a few people considering begging Batman to tone down the endless-void look, but she accidentally scares them off when they spot her, and she’s certain the prank is going to last a good amount of time now

Gotham continues to improve, enough so that the constant presence of Batman isn’t required, easily manageable by the other bats, even in lessened numbers

Most of the bats suspect Marinette taking up the cowl and the new look had a great deal of impact on the most recent crime drops

Bruce has taken to putting lawn chairs in the mansion’s library and using one of Marinette’s old sippy-cups for his evening scotch and cocktails, claiming to be catching up on a missed childhood, with an adult twist

Bruce discovers the Wii, and family game nights have become a thousand times funnier after all the wrist straps get lost

There’s something else Gotham and the JL notice after Batman ‘stopped holding back’ along with the new look. Batman got gentle

It wasn’t that he wasn’t gentle before, no; Batman has always cared about others. Has always treated the villains with humanity and made sure the ones that needed it got the treatments they needed, always made sure no one got hurt unjustly and no one died. Always made sure victims were looked after and safe. But now it’s a lot more

Batman becomes slower, softer, gentler when handling people, good or bad, ‘his’ fist a gauntlet of iron coated in the fluffiest of velvet and stuffed with plush cotton. He even began using words first a lot more, kicks and fists less and less

It boggles everyone this sudden new contrast, this scary as hell void, this renewed cryptid, this beastly monster of the night, having a heart light as a feather, pure as gold

In fact, oddly enough, it scares them all, heroes and villains alike, a hell of a lot more

Everyone knows never to underestimate someone who seems soft, and if Batman is already a better fighter than before, and softer than ever, then please, they beg in the names of the gods, what else is hidden under that cowl?

The prank still works wonderfully, of course, because no one connects the cryptid-ness of the last Robin, that everyone was told had ‘moved on from the Robin mantle’, with the improved cryptid-ness of Batman. Remember that ‘I sure hope it’s just Batman’ thing? Well now they’re frightened of Batman all over again, but they still fear the ‘Return of Robin’, because once again, if Batman has improved, what in the world has Robin been up to?

The prank finally ends with the decision of picking her duty over continuing to keep the secret

Themyscira is in need of some help, some problem there that the Amazonians can’t figure out themselves

Thing is, it’s a women-only place

So the decision is to volunteer for the mission, or keep up the prank

Obviously, she’s a good person and volunteers, deciding it’s time for the prank to be revealed

Thing is, she doesn’t say she’s a woman or even drops the deep scary voice before raising her hand and saying, “I’ll go.”

Everyone is dead silent and just stares

Her hidden straight poker face cracks and she stands up with a laugh, before she unclasped her cloak and drapes it over the back of her seat

Then she pulls off the full-headed mask/helmet, fully breaking the look of an endless void

Everything is dead silent still as everyone stares, before Superman drops his head into his hands, realizing what has been happening, and just bemoans, “Kia, why…”

That’s when the noise breaks and everyone looks at Superman, basically all asking, “WAIT, you KNOW her???”

Marinette is cracking up, trying to suppress her laughter as she subtly sends a message to her family not present at the meeting that the gig is up

Everyone quiets down when Batman stands and clamps a hand down on our unmasked Batman

“Everyone, this is Marinette, ex-Robin, Bruce Wayne’s daughter, and Kia Jor-El, my twin sister.”

It’s noisy all over again, and this time she can’t keep the laugh in

Diana, though, may or may not be dead silent, staring at Batman, and feeling very, very gay right now

Everything settles down eventually, and everything gets back on track, but it will be months before the JL members stop being absolutely disbelieving that they got bamboozled so well and for so long, and they may just be even more frightened of Batman than ever before

The Bat Clan gets a whole new round of laughs after Marinette returns from Themyscira and describes the reaction of the Amazons when Diana introduces Batman as one of the volunteering heroes, before remembering to also mention that Batman, despite the name and previous holder of the mantle, is indeed a woman

Also, considering that Kryptonians are functionally immortal when their powers are working, Marinette is basically permanently Batman now, and can watch over Gotham and everyone else for basically forever now alongside Superman and Wonder Woman

Good luck figuring out how to explain it when the public notices the youngest Wayne daughter isn’t aging any more

Imagine all the kids she’s probably going to end up adopting into the Wayne family over time, too. ‘Mominette’ is too valid to exclude, and this is absolutely going to be a moment of “Oh my god, it’s a learned behavior.”

AND THAT’S BASICALLY IT!! I really hope you liked this, I had so much fun thinking up this whole idea!!

Edit: Now has a Companion/Alternate Story! Krypto-Rogue Twins AU!!!

[tisfan]

Witch Hunter

for @livewire28

Title: Witch Hunter Collaborator(s) @tisfan Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25152004 Square Filled Y3: Identity Porn Ship/Main Pairing Wanda/Bucky Rating Teen Major Tags/Triggers/Warnings: Witches, Church, Heresy Summary  It’s the same old story, every time. Witch appears, idiots try to kill witch. Shit happens. God, Bucky’s tired of it. Word Count 1,724

for @buckybarnesbingo

Same old story, every time.

Bucky sometimes hoped something new would happen, but no.

Same old story.

A witch comes into power and either tried to hide it (in which case, when she inevitable slips up, the village would accuse her of witchcraft and sentence her to death) or she tried to help the villagers, her friends and family. And eventually, when something went wrong (as it would-- someone would die, or someone would ask for something the witch wouldn’t, or couldn’t, do) the villagers would accuse her of witchcraft and sentence her to death. 

People were stupid, Bucky decided.

Trying to put a witch to death was a dangerous proposition most of the time. More often than not, ended with dead villagers and burning houses than a dead witch. Didn’t seem to keep them from trying.

Bucky's job was a witch hunter -- those witches who had been accused, tried, found guilty, and who managed to get away… or who had been just one step ahead of the village elders.

Those were his prey.

The lost souls who were wandering, afraid and angry. 

He needed to catch them before they decided vengeance was the path to trod. An angry witch was even more dangerous than a woman scorned.

“Hell hath fury,” Bucky muttered. 

The village elder looked up at him. “What was that?”

“Nothing,” Bucky said. “Tell me the whole sequence of events, from when the village started to suspect there was witchcraft at play.”

The story was the same old story; the girl came of age, and things were naturally just better for her for a while. Unexplained streaks of good luck, fortuitous rains on dry crops, good hauls fishing, bushes loaded with berries. Lucky in love, or unexpected money.

Never too much, never really more than anyone needed.

But it was enough to stir petty jealousy. To give someone who already looked at the witch without favor ammunition. A lot of times, Bucky thought, it came to nothing except tragedy. The girl wasn’t really a witch, and she’d either scorned the wrong suitor or pissed off the wrong bitch. The whole thing ended with a farce of a trial, and a dead woman who’d never done anything except exist.

It was always a woman.

“Did she hurt anyone?”

Yes, of course she had. Sickness came to the village. A farmer’s cow had died. Eggs that wouldn’t hatch.

“Did you save any of these unhatched eggs?” Okay, well, that was new. And Bucky didn’t believe the girl was responsible for the cow, or the sickness. They usually weren’t. Tragedy happened, illnesses happened. No witch needed to be involved. But eggs that didn’t hatch. That was something new.

The elder took him to the coop. All the chickens had been removed, but the place still smelled of dusty feathers and chicken shit. 

Three nests of eggs, neatly stacked in piles. Fully large enough to hatch.

Dead chicks, that was one thing, but this was different. Bucky counted. Nine eggs in each nest.

Three. Times three. Times three again.

That was… unusual.

“Do you mind?” Bucky picked one of the eggs up. It was heavier than a chicken egg should be, and somehow still warm, even though no chicken had been sitting on it in a while. He knocked the egg sharply against the wooden ledge, cracking the shell.

What dropped out of the egg wasn’t a yolk and white.

It wasn’t a chicken, either.

Or it might have been, at one point. But now it was some monstrous, unborn thing with three heads and scales instead of feathers.

“Woah, yikes, that’s--” Bucky crushed it under the heel of his boot. “If you can spare a messenger, I’d like to send these eggs to the Witch Hunter General. Pack them each separately in a leather bag, with a wafer from the sacrament inside with it. Seal the ties with lead. And for God’s sake, don’t break them on the way.”

“You think the girl is, in fact, a witch?”

That was also new. Usually, by the time Bucky was involved, everyone was beyond sure.

“She’s something, all right,” Bucky said. “I’m going to repeat my question from earlier. Did anyone -- any human? Die?” Bucky wasn’t sure what the demon chicks meant, but he also wasn’t sure they had died. That was a question for the philosophers, what came first the demon chickens or the eggs?

“No, thank God,” and Bucky made the sign of the cross as well. Thank God. 

There were some lines too dangerous to cross.

“What will happen to her, when you find her?”

“We’ll take care of the problem,” Bucky promised.

“Thank God.” 

The village elder handed over the tithe, all the Church and the village could afford. Probably most of it was the result of the worldly goods that belonged to the girl before these fools tried to arrest her. Seemed appropriate somehow.

“Does she have any living relatives, someone I could speak with?”

“No,” the elder said. “Her parents died about eight years ago in a fire, and the twin brother--”

“What happened?”

“He was shot in the attempt to apprehend the witch. He died almost instantly, poor deluded fool.”

Oh, Christ.

“You idiots killed a witch’s twin brother?” He was half a mind to leave them to their fate. “Never mind.”

“God go with you, my son.”

“Yeah, God stay here and watch over you,” Bucky said. Idiots.

*

Wanda practically threw herself on the ground. She was exhausted, filthy. Hungry. And she was going to be hungrier, she thought, not having had time before dark to do anything like hunt or fish, or even gather berries, although there had been a bush that burst into fruit right beside her around lunch and she’d stuffed her mouth greedily, before she heard the baying of hounds.

The church’s men, she thought, and bolted off.

Now, it was dark and she was cold.

Fire. She could at least make a fire. Probably.

A fire would keep animals away. And no one, not even the Church, would hunt a witch at night. Wanda’s hands were shaking as she moved her fingers, summoning pieces of dried wood, bits of moss for tinder, gathering them out of the woods with a thought.

She gestured, stacked them neatly in the center of the small clearing. Another twist of her fingers and the ground was scraped clear around the fire. That was enough for responsible fire-tending. Even if she wanted to see the village burn, she didn’t want to set fire to the forest. The animals had done nothing to her. The children had done nothing to her.

God, the children.

She released one last burst of power, lighting the flame.

Pietro, her brother, had died, an arrow right between his eyes. 

Everything had been a madhouse; villagers that she’d known her whole life screaming her name, their faces distorted by rage and fear.

Calling for her death, calling her witch and whore of Satan.

Saying she’d brought disease, that she’d cursed the land and the crops and the cattle.

She hadn’t done any of those things. 

But she just might.

“Nice fire,” someone said. A shadow separated themselves from the darkness of the wood. “Pretty much tells anyone human in the area that there’s another human around.”

Wanda tensed, drawing strength from the earth and the trees--

“Eh, you don’t want to do that,” the man said. “Once you cross that line, you can’t come back. You hungry? I have a couple of pheasants, and you have this nice fire. We could share.”

“Who are you? What do you want?”

“My name’s Bucky, nice to meet you,” he said. “And what I want… is to cook these pheasants.”

“And after that?”

“Well, we’re probably eat them,” Bucky said, sitting down uninvited in her clearing and setting up a spit over the fire. “I might offer you some wine. You might tell me if you have any plans. And then I’ll tell you what we’re going to do instead.”

“Who are you?”

“Bucky Barnes. Witch Hunter, point of fact--” he held up one hand. “Ah, don’t do that. I’m still faster than you are, and I really, really don’t want to kill you.”

“I thought that’s what Witch Hunters did.”

“Only if we have to,” Bucky said. He spitted the birds, stuffed their cavities with a mix of herbs and grains. “Only if you kill someone first. You’re a witch. Simple fact. Another simple fact -- humans don’t much like witches. Because they can’t control them. It’s as simple as it is. They will grind you underfoot if you try. You don’t belong with them.”

Wanda didn’t quite sneer. “Let me guess,” she said. “I belong with you. You’ll protect me?”

Bucky laughed. “Lady, anything that’s an actual danger to you would make stew meat you of me. I’m here to help you. To get you home. And to make sure you don’t kill anyone.”

“Why?”

“Because once you kill someone with your powers, I can’t help you anymore,” Bucky said. “So if someone needs to die, you step back and let me do it. You can’t risk your soul by becoming a murderer.”

“But you can?”

“That’s the interesting bit,” Bucky said, and he took off his glove, showing off a silver, shiny hand. “I don’t have one anymore. I already sold it. So I suppose the only question left -- Are you going to have dinner with me, or are you going to go back there and burn that place to the ground?”

“They took everything from me,” Wanda burst.

“No, not yet,” Bucky said. “So don’t give it to them. Make the better choice, Wanda. Come with me.”

She wasn’t quite sure when she’d reached out her hand, or if she’d meant to take his, or to strangle him.

But she started to cry, and he gathered her into his arms, even the strange silver one felt warm and comforting around her back. “I know,” Bucky said. “There’s always a cost-- and you shouldn’t have to pay it. I’m sorry. Killing them won’t bring him back. It will only hurt you, and then there will be no one who remembers him.”

“You’re going to take me somewhere safe?”

“I promise,” Bucky said.

“Okay.”

“Dinner first? I don’t know about you, but I’m hungry.”

“Dinner first.”

[bubonickitten]

Chapter 2 is up. Cross-posting the full text below the cut:

   CW: angst; grief & loss; (temporary) major character loss/absence (left intentionally vague); flashbacks re: canon-typical trauma; brief mention of past self-harm; some blink-and-you'll-miss-it internalized ableism; one (1) very persistent spider; SPOILERS through MAG 169.

Chapter 1 can be found here: tumblr // AO3

   Jon waits until he’s safely out of sight before he lets himself fall apart. He’s trembling all over as he sinks to the floor, fighting back tears, his breath coming in shallow gasps.

  He underestimated what seeing Jonah Magnus again would do to him. Staring into the eyes of the man who stripped him of agency and humanity, taunting and gloating as he led him into trauma after trauma, setting him on the path to becoming a weapon and a monster and a hapless victim all at once…

  Jonah’s statement wormed its way into his head on the day the world ended, and it’s lived there ever since, playing on a loop and consuming him from the inside out.   

  …when you came to me already marked by the Web, I knew it had to be you…

  Did the Web choose Jon from the very beginning, or did he just have the bad luck to stumble upon the book, and only then catch the Web’s attention? How much of this broken future is due to an insufferable child’s inability to stop being such a nuisance and just sit still for five minutes? Even back then, he had that restless, insatiable curiosity, driving him to wander off and ignore any sign of danger.

  …attacks on the Archives were not uncommon during Gertrude’s tenure, and while she was always prepared, I made sure you would not be…

  He had always been fumbling in Gertrude’s shadow. Tim and Basira always thought that everyone would be better off if Jon had tried to emulate her. He disagrees with that now, but still, Gertrude wouldn’t have fallen for such obvious traps. She never let the Eye turn her monstrous, never let Jonah turn her into such a pliable sacrifice.

  …I waited until the worms were in you before I pulled the lever. I needed to make sure you felt that fear all the way to your bones…

  And he did, he did; the sense memories still haunt him, as marrow-deep as the worms once were. Some days he can still feel them burrowing and his fingers curl around an imaginary corkscrew as he’s swept away by the panicked urge to get them out. 

  …it was just a matter of feeding you statements to lead you to a few Avatars I thought were likely to harm you – but probably would stop short of actually killing you…

  At every turn, Jon had played right into Jonah’s hands. Georgie warned him that his stubborn investigations would destroy him, and he pressed on anyway. He may have been dependent on the statements by then – though he didn’t know it at the time – but he didn’t have to seek out Jude Perry or Mike Crew, did he? Was it any wonder Georgie gave up on him?

  …I made sure to trap her here, so when her rage bubbled over you would be right here, a ready target. I didn’t foresee the mark coming from surgery gone wrong, but it was a very pleasant surprise…

  Melanie. God, Melanie. She had fought tooth and nail to make a place for herself in a world that underestimated her. She was the protagonist of her own story until Jonah forced her to play a supporting role in Jon’s. It was never Jon’s intention, but the fact remains: if it wasn’t for him, Melanie would never have been trapped.

  …you needed more than just the marks; you needed power. And that was something the Unknowing served to test, though it posed no actual danger in the grand scheme of things…

  More meat for the grinder, more lives sacrificed solely for the Archivist’s progress. Tim died for nothing, Daisy was subjected to the Buried for nothing, and –

  …it inadvertently pushed you to confront death, a mark I had been very worried about trying to orchestrate…

  – Martin was ushered into Peter Lukas’ machinations, all for nothing.

  …you should have seen my face when you voluntarily went to him…

  Jon feels sick imagining Jonah’s unbridled delight at watching his ignorant, malleable chosen one so willingly offer himself up to the Boneturner. Could Jon have made it any easier for him to win?  

  …how is Martin, by the way? You will keep an eye on him when all this is over, won’t you? He’s earned that…

  He’d promised, he promised he would protect Martin, and his best just wasn’t good enough.

  Jon leans against the nearest wall, curls in on himself, and gives in to the wracking sobs. He hates Jonah – hates him in a way he never thought he was capable of hating anything – but even now, the anger is still eclipsed by the fear and the scars it left behind. He feels more like a victim than a survivor. Jon could take retribution on Jonah in a million ways and Jonah would be powerless to stop him, but it doesn’t change anything: all the power in the world won’t chase away the grief, the nightmares, the incessant fear and pain the Eye filters though him every moment.

  One look at Jonah, and the memory came rushing back: Jonah using him as a mouthpiece, slithering into his mind and commandeering his tongue, forcing his eyes to open, moving his jaw like a ventriloquist’s dummy, only to cut the strings and send him buckling to the floor as soon as he’d served his purpose. He had tried to scratch out his eyes, claw out his throat, but every wound would heal before the pain even registered. And Jonah – 

  …I hope you’ll forgive me the self-indulgence, but I have worked so very hard for this moment, a culmination of two centuries of work. It’s rare that you get the chance to monologue through another, and you can’t tell me you’re not curious…

  – it wasn’t enough for him just to get the result he wanted. He had to take the opportunity to degrade his victim one last time, had to use Jon’s own voice to do it. There are times when Jon can’t even listen to himself speak without flashing back to that moment and shattering into full-blown panic. He hadn’t felt human for a long time by that point, but the Ritual… it was dehumanizing in a way he could have never imagined. He’ll never be free of that memory, no matter how far he runs, no matter how much Jonah Magnus suffers, and no matter whether he manages to reverse the damage –

  Stop. Spiraling isn’t helping. Breathe. Play it back again, slower this time, and think. How would Martin respond, if he was here? 

  Running was never an option. You’re probably right. Jonah Magnus’ suffering has no impact on Jon’s recovery. He still deserves to have his eyes gouged out – yes, okay, fine! Priorities, I know. (A nearly imperceptible smile tugs at the corner of Jon’s mouth at that.) Reversing the damage, though, making things right – that’s still on the table. There’s still a chance. Then I’d say it’s worth a try, Martin would say, and between the reassurance of his smile and the sincerity in his eyes, Jon would believe him.

  Jon imagines Martin sitting beside him, arm around his waist, a warm and comforting weight for him to lean on. Thankfully, blessedly, it’s just as strong a sense memory as the nesting worms and Jude’s searing handshake and the Boneturner’s groping fingers in his chest cavity. Martin helped him relearn that physical contact is not always synonymous with pain and fear and violence. Safe hands, warm eyes, gentle touch. Jon holds fast to that thought and lets it anchor him until the storm passes.

  Eventually – Jon doesn’t care to Know how much time has passed – his sobbing dissolves into broken hiccups, and then into exhausted sniffling. He sits up, scrubs at his face, and forces himself to breathe. The guilt is still there, the pain is still acute, but he has a job to do.

  Once he’s composed enough, he forces himself to stand and lets his feet take him to where he Knows he needs to be.

   As Jon mounts the spiral staircase leading to the top of the tower, Helen’s door creaks open on the wall ahead of him.

  “That little confrontation was a bit dramatic, Archivist.”

  Ten many-jointed fingers curl around the frame. Or twelve, or maybe sixteen, or – it’s not important. Jon stops counting and continues climbing.

“And what did it accomplish?” Helen’s face peeks through the opening now. “You've changed nothing.” When Jon does not reply, she leaves her doorway and plants herself on the staircase a few steps above him. She leans down close to Jon's eye level and tilts her head at a disquieting angle. “Ah, but that wasn’t the point, was it? That spectacle was all for you.”

  Jon doesn't have to Know to determine that Helen is bored, which means she isn’t going to leave until he entertains her. Better to get it over with, he figures, and so he finally focuses on her and shakes his head fervently.

  “Oh, of course. Martin.” Helen smiles – cruel and condescending as always, but Jon can detect some fondness there as well. “He really did rub off on you, didn’t he? He would have enjoyed that little performance. The sheer pettiness of it all.”

  The corner of Jon’s mouth twitches up in a rueful little smile. She’s right – Martin would have loved that little standoff. Jon can picture the moment of awe in the aftermath – the lopsided grin, the stammering insistence that Jon, that was amazing, and the inevitable moment once the adrenaline wore off when Martin would tell him: I know I keep saying this, but I didn’t think it was possible for me to be any more attracted to you. And much later, once they were safe and the dust was settled, they would joke about it: Martin would do a terrible impersonation – always fond, never cruel – and Jon would point out that it did have the intended effect –   

  “Daydreaming, are we?” Helen barks a laugh when Jon startles, his face heating with embarrassment. “Even after all this time, you really are adorable.”

  Jon groans and makes a shooing gesture in Helen’s direction. Her laughter reverberates even more than usual; it leaves Jon with the distinct sensation of chewing on tinfoil, and his teeth begin to ache.

  As the echoes fade away, Helen pantomimes wiping a tear from her eye. “So, do you really think this plan is any better than your standard fare?”   

  Honestly, Jon has no idea.  

  “I’m well aware that” – a brief pause as he skips ahead in the statement – “to try and prevent whatever fate is coming – is likely impossible anyway, but after what I saw, I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t at least try.”  

  It’s odd, using Oliver’s original statement like this to express a worldview so antithetical to his current stance. Comparing the person Oliver used to be – desperate to change fate, then desperate to escape it – with who he is now… it’s still unsettling, to see how much a person can change after coming into contact with one of the entities.

  “Hmm. I still think you're fighting a lost battle. But I can say that I am very curious to see what happens when you try.”

  Jon shifts from one foot to the other, hitching his bag higher on his back and giving Helen a pointed look.

  “Impatient to meet your god? Well, don’t let me keep you.” Helen steps back over the threshold of her door. “Try not to get vaporized, will you?”

  The door swings shut on Helen’s delighted cackle and Jon lets out a long, exhausted breath before continuing his ascent.

   Jon doesn’t know how long it takes, but eventually he reaches the top of the staircase, which opens up into a circular, empty room. Stone walls, stone floor, stone ceiling. The only interesting detail is a stylized eye carved into the very center of the floor. As far as Jon can tell, there’s nothing arcane about the symbol at all – just a bit of trite aesthetic flair for an otherwise bare temple. Still, now that geography has ceased functioning, it marks the exact center point of the wasteland, and it’s exactly where Jon needs to be.

  He has no way of Knowing whether this will work. He still isn’t even entirely sold on the idea of the Fears being sentient, rather than just… forces of nature, no more or less conscious than gravity. But it’s the only idea he has left, and it’s something that he and Martin planned together, which makes it worth trying. If it doesn’t work, then… well, with any luck, hopefully he won’t live long enough for it to matter. Not that Jon has ever been particularly lucky –

  Several of his eyes swivel and train themselves on a single speck moving down the far wall, and he hears his voice before he even makes the conscious decision to speak:

  “Leave.”

  The word comes out as a cacophony of overlapping tones and Jon staggers with the force of it. The spider, for its part, scuttles through a crack and out of sight at the command, leaving Jon alone and swaying with vertigo.

  This is why he hates vocalizing single words – it means replaying every instance of the word stored in the Archive simultaneously, and it always leaves him feeling like a blown out speaker. It’s safest to stick to full, unique phrases – anything with an exact combination of words that occurs only once in all of the Archive’s records.

  Ears still ringing, Jon shakes his head and tries to reorient himself. If he’s quick, maybe he can get what he needs and retreat before the Web interferes again. He hurries to the middle of the room, stands on the pupil at the center of the eye motif, and –   

  As Ceaseless Watcher turns its gaze on him again, Jon prepares himself for a repeat of its earlier scrutiny. It starts slow – a searing, infectious ache jumping its way from cell to cell like a charged current, seizing upon every scrap of conscious thought, building up to a crescendo of rending, electric agony. 

  This time, though, the Archive Watches back.

  Helen had said it best: “There are exactly two roles available in this new world of ours: The Watcher, and the Watched. Subject, and object.”

  What happens when a part of the Eye allows itself to embrace both roles? What happens when the Eye’s pupil shifts its focus on itself?

  “An eye can’t see within itself,” Jon had said. And much later, out of the blue, Martin had mused: “But what if it could?”

  Jon had averaged at least one identity crisis a day ever since becoming the Archivist, and Martin grew accustomed to sitting through Jon’s hand-wringing over how much of his humanity remained. Martin had always maintained that, first, it wasn’t as simple a dichotomy as Jon wanted it to be, and second, Jon was human in all the ways that mattered.

  One day as they journeyed through the dying world, though, Martin suggested a new theory. Jonah Magnus had presented a one-way progression from human to Archivist to Archive. The Watcher’s Crown Ritual was meant to be a final act of dehumanization, wherein Jon would cease to exist as a person and become instead a perpetual conduit for the Eye. But Jon had never fully lost himself, had he? It was more like he had shattered into multiple states of being.

  He could – was forced to, really – See everything that the Eye could See. The part of him that was Jonathan Sims felt the fear and suffering as it was (that is to say, horrific); the part of him that was Archive felt only detached fascination and a sense that everything was just as it should be, because this was the role it was born to serve. The result was a dissonant, twilight emotional state wherein everything felt both right and horribly, irredeemably wrong.

  In a way, it reminded Jon of how he felt reading statements. When he first started out, he hated it – he could literally feel the fear of the statement givers as if it was his own, and it always left him feeling exhausted. Then, at some point, came the physical dependence on statements – without his realizing, they had become life-sustaining rather than draining. Even then, though, the fear never actually went away – he was just forced to vicariously feel the Eye’s perverse satisfaction in it. Sometimes it felt like being made complicit in his own terror; sometimes it just made him feel numb. It was like having a parasite tucked away inside his mind, passing its own wants and needs onto him and making him feel them as if they were his own.

  After the Ritual, every instance of fear in this new world was a statement to be taken in by the Beholding and dutifully filed away inside the Archive, and all of it had to go through Jon first.

  Jon also had some control over the Eye, though: he could focus its gaze and, as its Archive, he did theoretically have access to most of its knowledge, as long as he knew where to look. He both took to it and hated it, constantly flitting between roles from one moment to the next like a moth wavering between funeral pyres.

  “What even am I now – human, Archivist, Archive?” Jon had stormed one day, only for Martin to take both of his hands, meet his gaze, and tell him, very seriously: “How about all three?” 

  Jon had taken it as a dig at his habitual indecisiveness, but Martin was being sincere. He suggested that Jon try to embrace being a walking paradox, to use that multiplicity to his advantage – and that was the premise upon which they’d built their future strategies. As they pressed on toward the Panopticon, they each took turns acting as the other’s anchor, and Jon practiced compartmentalizing. Now, finally, it was time to put the hypothesis to the test.

  So, what does happen if an Eye learns to See within itself?

  What happens is this: the Archive Beholds the Watcher –

  …the Eye in the sky scans forward, back; stares into, through; sweeps above, below. Nothing escapes its gaze: not the bloated bodies swaying listlessly in the vast deep; not the cooling cinders of an endless building at last consumed and rendered to nothing but ash in the wind; not the algal bloom suffocating a corpse-choked lake long-dead and fetid; not the merry-go-round with its rusted gears and peeling-paint horses…

  …far away, the Falling Titan drifts aimless in a void where the stars flicker in and out and eventually not at all; emaciated beasts of the Hunt stagger listless in search of a chase, falling one by one in the dust as the prey remains scarce; the endless war has been reduced to pilotless technology running through the same protocols over and over, few human minds remaining to witness or suffer the collateral damage…

  …closer, the paint continues to flake away from the Distortion’s doors; the Sandman is running out of eye sockets to plunder; the Forsaken despairs the absence of lonely souls to appreciate its embrace; the Corpse Routes continue their inexorable crawl toward the center of creation, wilting all the way…

  …there is nothing new under the roving Eye; moments blur together, time runs down, and every grain of sand in the hourglass is the same, the same, the same, the same…

  …closer, closer, honing in: follow the woven threads and observe how all the lines converge on a single point…

  – and the Watcher blinks first.

   When Jon finally comes to, he’s sprawled on the floor, all twitching limbs and exhaustion. Dazed, unfocused eyes blink in and out of existence around him, making his vision go pixelated and wobbly. He swats uselessly at them – or tries to, anyway, before realizing belatedly that he can barely lift his arms. Like a cat waking up from anesthesia, he thinks with a delirious little chuckle. What he wouldn’t give for a cat video compilation – no. Focus.

  Standing up is out of the question right now, but the brain fog is starting to clear. It was so much all at once, but he tries to parse it.

  The world is running through the same loops now, over and over and over again. He could revisit every domain he trudged through on the way to the Panopticon and any statement he could offer up would be identical to the one he gave the first time around. Victim after victim fed to the endless slaughter, sacrificed at the eternal maypole, retracing the same lonely paths in the fog. The same buildings burning again and again in the exact same way; the same worms struggling one-step-forward, two-steps back in the same tunnels day after day; the strangers on the merry-go-round trading the same limited supply of faces in a closed economy of uncanny horror.

  It’s… monotonous. Predictable. Stale. And the Ceaseless Watcher never was satisfied by stale statements – oh. Oh.

  The Eye is bored, Jon realizes all at once. Or – no, maybe that’s not the right word. Malnourished, perhaps? Or is that still too anthropomorphizing? Even after coming into direct contact with the Beholding, he still can’t say with any certainty whether it has any mind or will of its own. It could just be that the metaphysical concept itself is unraveling without anything to challenge it – or, ironically, perhaps it’s simply weakened by its visibility in this new world.

  The Beholding is the fear of being watched, of being judged, of having one’s secrets exposed. Or, how did Gerry put it… “the feeling that something, somewhere, is letting you suffer, just so it can watch.” Jon thinks back on his months-long bout of paranoia, and he remembers that one of the most frightening things about it was his inability to trust his own judgment. There was always that creeping fear that perhaps it really was all in his mind, and – when he thinks about it, that paranoia might not have had the same bite to it if he knew for a fact that he was being watched and precisely who or what was doing the watching.

  The fear of the unknown is an important variable. Once all your secrets are known, what else can the Eye take from you? Once your suspicions are confirmed and the source of your fear has a name, how can it use your doubt to taunt you? In this new world, everything can behold the Eye in the sky. Everyone is fully aware that they are being watched, and the identity of the Watcher is indisputable. It dilutes the fear. The Ceaseless Watcher may well have been at its most terrifying when it was at its most subtle, in the world where the Dread Powers still lurked in the shadows. 

  And now – now, on top of all that, the End’s promise looms nearer and nearer every day. What is an observer with nothing to observe? What is the Watcher without mortal minds to experience the terror of being Watched? Jonah Magnus’ nightmare kingdom is as inimical to the Ceaseless Watcher as it is to all the other Fears and all of their victims.

  It takes a minute before Jon realizes he’s laughing at the absurdity of it all.    

   Jon still feels a bit lightheaded as he exits the Panopticon, mind abuzz with hypotheticals. He’s jittery, excited – afraid, yes, but the anticipation is tinged with hope. He still isn't prepared for Helen's abrupt appearance, though.

  “So, how did it go?”  

  Jon scowls at her before he can think better of it, and her mouth quirks in amusement as she soaks in his momentary burst of alarm. He closes his eyes and begins to shuffle statements in his mind. 

  “…spent so very long staring into” – a brief skip ahead – “infinity and knowing, truly knowing.”  

  “You’re telling me you had a staring contest with the Eye?”  

  It’s a simplistic and annoyingly flippant way to put it, but she isn’t entirely wrong. When Jon doesn’t deny it, Helen claps her hands together in delight.

  “It just sat there and stared at me,” Jon continues. “I didn’t like staring back at it. It made me feel strange, like it was sorting me into cuts of meat. There was more in those eyes than I’d ever seen -"

  “Jonathan, won’t you stop speaking in metaphor and get to the point?”

  The twinkle in her eye tells him that she’s enjoying his struggle to communicate. He really should know better than to let her rile him, but he feels himself growing irritable all the same. 

  “…a new door,” he says. “And it wasn’t there before. The man asked me again what was inside –”  

  In a flash, Helen has her deadly sharp fingers at his jugular, just barely brushing his skin. A few tiny pinpricks of blood well up and heal almost immediately. “Don’t you dare repurpose my words, Archivist,” she hisses.

  It’s not easy to press Helen’s buttons, and he won’t deny the flicker of spiteful self-satisfaction the flares up that for once the tables have turned. He doesn’t plan on provoking her further, though; they both know that she can’t kill him, but that doesn’t mean it wouldn’t still hurt to have his throat skewered.

  But he wasn’t using Helen Richardson’s statement just to antagonize her. It’s just that his library isn’t forthcoming with accurate words. After a few moments of perusal, he finds something that might work. There’s a risk of further inflaming Helen’s temper by using a statement about the Distortion right now, but…  

  “…staring at them, measuring the patterns they created – the maths behind them – he was on the verge of a great truth.” Jon pauses, watching for Helen’s reaction. 

  The dangerous look in her eyes remains, but she lowers her hand. “I’ll allow it,” she says. “Go on.”

  “He was going to shake mathematics to its foundations once he figured out the truth, hidden in those cascading fractal patterns.”  

  To Helen’s credit, she seems to be seriously attempting to interpret his meaning now.

  “You Saw into the Eye’s inner workings,” she begins slowly, waiting for Jon’s affirmative before continuing. “And you think you learned something about the underlying patterns of this reality.” Jon nods again, more vigorously this time. “You think that you can use that understanding to… what, close the door you opened?”

  Not quite wrong, but not quite right, either.

  “He wanted to close it, lock it back in place and get some semblance of control back,” Jon concedes.   

  But there is no other side of the door anymore, and the Fears can’t be exiled if there’s nowhere to send them.   

  “It was, to put it quite simply, impossible, and I must have approached it from a hundred different angles trying to make sense of it.” 

  “Then what?” Helen lets out an incredulous little laugh. “You think you can… unravel this reality? Tug on the strings holding it together, reshape it to your liking?”

  He doesn’t quite approve of the phrasing – to your liking – but it’s close enough. He’s actually pleasantly surprised that she managed to read that much into his clumsy attempts at an explanation, so he gives another nod.

  “…to circumvent physics, and suspend natural laws,” he says excitedly, gesturing with his hands and tripping over his words as he stitches the sound bites together. “Rewrite them wholesale – petty rules like space or time –”  

  “And how exactly do you plan to do that, Archivist?” Helen scoffs. “You may be overpowered now, but even you don’t have the capability to meddle with the fabric of reality.”

  “You are prepared. You are ready. You are marked.” Jonah’s words leave a bitter taste on his tongue, but hopefully it gets his point across. “The power of the Ceaseless Watcher flows through you – in the world that we have made.”  

  “That’s… you’re giving yourself far too much credit.” Helen sounds flustered now. That’s… rare, and Jon doesn’t quite know what to make of it. “You’ve always been a – a conduit, not a conscious actor. A tool, not an architect. All you did was open a door.” She pauses briefly and gives him a severe, almost affronted look. “Reality is malleable, but that doesn’t mean you can manipulate it. You are not the Worker-of-Clay. You are not of the Web. The only ‘power’ that the Ceaseless Watcher grants you is voyeurism. You Watch, you observe, you… you sit on the sidelines and curate reality. You do not shape it.”

  But I did, Jon thinks.

  Compared to some of the other Avatars, his powers can seem passive. He has no command over insects or disease; he can’t reach into someone’s chest to turn their bones or cook their heart; he can’t drop people into the sky or disappear them into the fog; he doesn’t have the prowess of a Hunter or the berserker strength of the Slaughter. He Watches, he Knows, he Sees. He asks questions and he compels answers. And yet, he’s just as dangerous as the rest. He doesn’t have to draw blood in order to prey on others - he invades them like the Crawling Rot and haunts them like Dark and traps them like the Buried, and all he has to do is use his voice. The insidiousness of it is part of what makes it so terrifying.  

  So yes, Watching and Knowing may not seem like much compared to the flashier abilities of the other Avatars, but being marked by each of them in turn molded him into something new – something with a voice that shattered and reshaped the world with a single invocation. The concepts of Watching and Being Watched are the metaphysical building blocks of this universe, and both of those are within his purview. The most fundamental law now is the interplay of Watcher versus Watched, and Jon balances precariously on the tightrope of a boundary between the two – likely the only living being that doesn’t fit neatly into one category or the other.

  The power threaded through the tapestry of this reality is a part of him as much as he is a part of the Eye. And if he pulls in just the right way, in just the right place…

  “All you did was open a door,” Helen repeats, but softer this time, almost to herself.

  But there’s power in the small things, isn’t there? Helen owes her current state to the simple act of opening a door, after all. For Jon, everything was set into motion when he opened a book. Curiosity is so very human, Jon thinks – it seems unfair that it could lead both of them so far astray from their humanity. Perhaps Jon’s life is a Rube-Goldberg machine painstakingly orchestrated by the Web, and finding the book was just the first domino in a long chain of missteps; or maybe his fate was just a perfect, unfortunate combination of bad luck, his own restless curiosity, and an entitled old man’s god complex. It doesn’t really matter – the consequences are the same.

  As Jon starts walking, Helen paces after him. He watches with faint surprise as she wrings her hands uneasily – or a close enough approximation to it, anyway. It’s disorientating to watch, like an Escher woodcut in fluid motion. Several eyes attempt to track her movements, but it only succeeds in making Jon dizzy.

  “Where are you off to now?” Helen asks, voice leaden with uncharacteristic uncertainty.  

  “It felt like if you picked a line, any line, you could follow it through to the center, to some deep truth, if only your eye could keep track of the strands that had caught it.”  

  “The Panopticon is the center.”

  Jon stops, turns, and shakes his head. “A stronghold of the Web.”  

  “Oh,” Helen says, eyes brightening in realization.

  Jon rubs the back of his neck and grimaces. “I was returning to Hill Top Road, no matter what I might feel about it.”  

  “The axis of the Spider’s web…” Helen gives the ground a long, pensive look. Then her eyes narrow and flick back up to meet Jon’s. “And what exactly do you expect to do there?”

  “A scar in reality, that I believe has since been compounded by the interferences of other powers.”  

  “Yes, we all know about the rift,” Helen says impatiently. “What do you plan to do with it?”

  “She was going to wait and see.” With that, Jon begins walking again.  

  “I changed my mind,” Helen practically whines. “This Archive nonsense was funny before, but now it’s just obtuse.” When Jon doesn’t bite back, she heaves a theatrical sigh. “Fine. As usual, I would offer you a quicker route, but you’d be something of an allergen in my corridors.”

  Without turning to look at her, Jon flips her off over his shoulder.

  “Rude,” Helen calls after him, and apparently she’s recovered enough to goad him, because he can hear the smile creeping back into her voice. “Try not to get lost traipsing back through the Lonely, Archivist. I would hate to have to come in after you.”

  Her laughter is still ricocheting inside his skull when he hears her door swing shut, and he can already feel a headache blossoming in his temple. He takes a moment to collect himself before turning his back on the tower.

  Jon sets out into the wasteland again once again, and he doesn’t look back. 

   End Notes:

- Jon's dialogue was taken from the statements in the following episodes, in order: MAG 011; 057; 103; 047; 008 (x2); 124; 57; 162; 160; 59; 139; 59; 139; 160.