#fic: what some circumstance stole

[catalists]

on the subject of outisder POVs - Hob Gadling's view of Charles and Edwin in What Some Circumstance Stole is one of my favourite things in this fandom and honestly one of the best fics I've ever read

Thank you so much, that means a lot! I tend to write the kind of fic I'd like to read, and it's so gratifying to find that other people want to read it too.

[adventures-in-mangaland]

Another Dead Boy Detectives Fic Rec List

Netflix sucks and I'm sad, but the Dead Boy Detectives fandom continues to be awesome, so here are some more very quick fic recs!*

Tonight's the Night You Fight Your Best Mate's Dad by Opossum_Subatomic

Everyone's Alive College/University 5+1 things fic featuring Charles bringing Edwin coffee and slowburn payneland. Also Family/Wedding Drama involving Everyone Thinks They're Dating so acute is verges on Fake Dating. This author is seriously fantastic, everything they write is gold.

You should also check out Kissing Lessons, which is a high school AU that does what it says on the tin while also giving non-binary Monty and polyamory.

Ornithology by Rosie447

Monty gets a job working at Tragic Mick's. This one's not actually payneland, being gen and Monty-centric. I know, gasp. It's a fantastic and very sweet exploration of Monty discovering his sense of self post canon and works as a great metaphor for recovery from toxic family/relationships. Also, the ex-animal solidarity and bonding with Mick is lovely.

what some circumstance stole by Chrome

The Sandman crossover featuring Edwin and Hob being kidnapped and tortured together. Their friendship is really wholesome with eventual Father Figure and Found Family Feels for the whole agency and background Dreamling.

dandelion wine (life and death in summertime) by world_wanderer

Payneland Right Person Wrong Time AU in which neither of them die but they still meet and become friends. The May/December friendship is sweet but tragic, with a bittersweet ending. Superb.

Mirror Image by Anonymous

Charles' afterlife gets taken over my an evil shape-shifting doppelganger, leaving him with plenty of time to regret never talking to Edwin about his feelings. Angsty but with Feelings Realisation and the Power of Love and Friendship vibes.

my healing needed more than time by babyseraphim

Case fic with de-aged Charles! Baby Charles is precious but be prepared for discussions of childhood trauma/abuse.

The same author has also written I'm So Aces at Babysitting, which is a really cute two-chaptered AU featuring Charles and Edwin babysitting the kid versions of each other, with bonus Crystal and Niko doing the same. It's very wholesome and the author writes little kids really well.

Pouring into me by tragedy_machine

Love me some "Charles wants to date Edwin to figure out his feelings but gets turned down" fic. Feelings are hard, OK?

thank u, next by KiaraSayre

Edwin fucks and Charles seethes. It's very funny and also features some interesting worldbuilding with the Fae.

Like We've Never Known Hurt by dearheartdont

Just cute established relationship PWP and praise kink. So good.

all of these hollows by handwrittenhello

The boys are alive again but sans memories. Can they still find each other and prove their devotion to the Night Nurse?? While also evading heavenly and hellish forces trying to keep them apart??? Very interesting concept executed well.

Suo Gân by emryses

The agency takes on the case of a traumatised Edwardian ghost searching for her missing baby... Read it for Edwin family feels.

Where Primroses Bloom by PantryJesus

Reading aloud as a love language and Watership Down feels. Idk, I'm now convinced that Edwin is kind of rabbit-coded with the whole "if they catch you they'll kill you. But first they must catch you" thing. A lovely well written fic.

I'm so sick of online love by Hse11z5

College/University AU where the boys meet through a dating app. It's cute.

you can have the best of me, baby (and I will give you anything) by aletterinthenameofsanity

Again, it's the Friends with Benefits but with real feelings and mutual pining for me. Now has a Charles PoV companion fic.

True Love's Kiss by Asidian

In which Charles curses himself with a Sleeping Beauty enchantment in order to confirm his feelings for Edwin and Crystal is the real MVP. I love this one because the boys are both SO stupid but in very different in-character ways.

I also recommend Promised, in which they kind of play the Green card angle to keep Edwin out of Hell? Which honestly needs to be more of a trope. And Tight Quarters, starring the boys trapped in a magic circle, leading to Forced Proximity induced Feelings Realization (in more ways than one! 😉).

Something I Can Turn To by DontOffendTheBees

I love some domestic fluff, in this case as an Everyone's Alive/Childhood Friends AU in which the boys are poor but happy living together. I liked how they both survive their respective traumas, but Reality Ensues.

I also recommend Lived My Whole Life Before the First Light for a lovely but melancholy Soulmate AU that goes for the "seeing colours" trope for extra wistful angst.

Dining at the Ritz by TerresDeBrume

Meeting the Parents fic in which Edwin's parents are awful and Charles is Not Having It. This has Everyone Thinks They're Dating and autistic Edwin stimming representation, plus discussions of racism, classism and ableism. The fic is also part of a great Modern AU series in which the boys attended St Hilarion's at the same time and Charles saved Edwin from a non-supernatural but still almost deadly prank. Highly recommended!

The Case of the Couples Retreat by juliasfanart

Listen, I can't get enough of undercover fake dating/relationships at a couples retreat, OK? Some minor angst but overall very cute and fluffy.

acu (aysar cinematic universe) by ObsessedWithFandom

The agency is hired to solve the mystery of Charles' death and bring his killers to justice. I'm genuinely obsessed with this series; I love its OCs and Charles having an exboyfriend gives Edwin a fun crisis. Plus haunting Charles' killers is very satisfying and cathartic. Just imagine they're Netflix execs, y'all.

*Not actually quick, as it turns out. 😅

I love doing these lists because I always think I've only got a few recs and then I look back over my recent bookmarks and I've got a metric ton of great fics to rec. You guys are so talented. ❤️

[obsidianpen]

These questions about Lightning make me wonder what direction you plan to take it. I know you don't use the same things in every story, which makes them so delightfully unique. This is just my wishful thinking for you to explore the prophecy more. I know that in the books the power that defeats V is love, but for some reason I feel like there's something more to it than that. Harry is the chosen one, and that could mean so many things. Jamie, have mercy on me and please tell me something about this new story of ours 🥺🥺

omggg what me ramble about my the plot of a fic im not writing? Please

okay so

SPOILERS in case I ever do get around to writing Lightning

Here’s what I know so far about how the beginning of the fic is going to go (and I may, ofc, change my min entirely):

Harry, a young auror in training, goes back by accident, due to a dark ritual involving the ring, an illegal time turner and human sacrifice that he Ron and Hermione attempt to bust on their own, ignoring ministry protocol. Things go very awry, Harry ends up in 1950 ish, alone. Oh and he has a ton of gold, thanks to an interaction Draco that happens earlier that day - how lucky

Harry carries a terrible blood curse with him, and knows immediately that this shit is going to kill him and soon if he doesn’t seek medical help. But he also knows that time traveling like he did, no matter the circumstances, will send probably him to Azkaban, if not off as a test subject to the DoM. He knows they’ll look into his memories if he comes off as suspicious at st mungos, because it’s a real dark curse, and he’s a horrible actor and he’s awful at Occlumency and he knows it, so

harry concocts a ridiculous plot that allows him to pull out alllllll of his memories but with a plan in place to get them back after his curse is lifted, and sets things up so he wakes up right outside st mungos, where he knows they’ll take care of him

he is well taken care of, the poor lamb, to be attacked on Christmas Eve!!! and spends a few days there, maybe makes some hospital friends who have also had their memories fucked with

they assume he was the victim of some awful mugging, and that the perpetrator wiped his memories after and did such a terrible job and that’s why Harry can’t even remember his own name (they deduce his first name is ‘Harry’ only because he wrote it on the inner tag on his robe beforehand; a healer tells him that next time he writes his names on his personal belongings, he ought to put his last name, too)

but he still has his wand - how lucky! So they tell him he should go to ollivanders, as it looks like one of his (man remembers every wand he ever sold, ten galleons says he’ll remember you)

so Harry does, and the moment he asks, ollivander’s face goes slack - he’s clearly been confounded. He goes into a back room, hands Harry a moleskin bag, and bows him out of his shop without another word.

Harry goes back to the room he’s renting, and it’s NYE btw, and he opens the bag to find a shit ton of galleons and two vials, both glowing silver, one so bright it’s almost blinding. There is a handwritten note on each one. ‘Before you died’ and ‘after you died’

another note reads something along the lines of, ‘hi Harry, these are all your memories. I’m not even sure if you should take them all back or not; it might be better if you didn’t. It’s not often you get a chance to start over. But I know you - ha - so you’ll definitely end up taking them back. Maybe think about it first. It’s not great. I think I’d take the do over. really, think about it. Oh, and while you’re considering it - avoid Knockturn alley.’

harry does indeed find this all ominous, and assumes he must have been a horrible horrible person. He probably stole all this gold! What if he killed people for it! So he takes his sad amnesiac self down to the Leaky and starts to day drink heavily as the new year approaches

he is friendly with the young bus boy named Tom, who swears he’ll be running that pub someday.

as if gets busier later in the day, quite crowded, Harry gets more depressed. At one point, half the bar seems to cheer when a new person arrives. harry looks. He’s tall. He’s very handsome. He immediately makes Harry’s mind go on high alert and he’s instantly anxious and doesn’t know why.

tom the busboy tells him that if he keeps staring like that, the bloke is going to notice. Sure enough, he does. Harry looks away and is having a crisis (why am I staring at that handsome man? Why do I keep calling him handsome? Am I gay, and I forgot? Wtf is wrong with me)

so he goes to leave, but Tom the bus boy got busy, so he shouts to get his attention so he can say goodbye to his bestie. “Tom!”

”…Yes?”

wrong Tom. Harry is suddenly eye to eye with the very tall very handsome very scary man. He’s staring down at him, looking confused. “Have we met…?”

harrys body acts without his consent. He moves in ways he did not know he could move - in a flash he has his wand out, pointed at this man’s temple, has him backed up against a wall, his elbow across his throat, pressing on his windpipe.

about a dozen people around them are ready to kill Harry at once, but mystery tall man calls them off with the barest gesture. Harrys heart is pounding and he is having all these horrible confusing thoughts, like ‘should tear his head off, lock him up, stop him now, ruin him’

And he’s looking right into his eyes while thinking all these things, so TR is just drinking it all in, unbeknownst to him

Owner of the bar yells at harry. Harry, so very confused and too guilty and panicked to even apologize, just leaves. he goes somewhere far away for a bit… and decided to take the first vial of his memories then

mental crisis ensues

aaaaaaand I actually have a lot more than that semi planned but that’s the exposition 🥲

[genevievefangirl]

Gen's Top 100 DBDA Fics - PART 10

For all caveats/rules/backstory, please read the Master Post

Thoroughfare By: expertonhaircuts worm_pirate_ on twitter Rating: T Tags: AU - Zombie Apocalypse, AU - Last of Us, Slow Burn, Hurt Edwin Payne, Protective Charles Rowland, Unfinished Summary: “I’m Charles,” He says, determined to keep eye contact with the boy’s wide, green eyes, “Are you okay?” The boy doesn’t say anything. He just looks down and rolls up the right sleeve of his shirt, and Charles’ mouth goes dry. Logically, he knew it was there, he knew, he saw the Infected bite into the boy when Charles was under him. But somehow, as they ran, he’d convinced himself he’d saved them both. “Promise me, Charles,” The name comes as an afterthought, the boy’s voice shaking, “Promise me you’ll kill me when I turn.” // OR: A zombie apocalypse AU inspired by The Last of Us in which Edwin is immune, Charles has sworn to protect him, and together they’ve been running from their pasts whilst trying to do some good along the way. My Notes: This is the only truly 'unfinished' fic on this list in that it hasn't been updated for months at this point, but I promise you it is worth reading in it's current state. I love zombie AUs and this one is one of the best I have ever read. The first meeting between the boys is iconic and the instant connection they form is *chef's kiss*. I promise you will love it.

Touched by you By: Lemurafraidofthunder @lemurafraidofthunder Rating: T Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Caretaking, Feelings Realization, First Kiss, Fluff, Protective Charles Rowland, Protective Edwin Payne Summary: After a run in with an iron-happy witch, our favourite ghost detectives take care of each other and perhaps have some realisations. Featuring gentle touches, a slightly panicking Edwin and Charles who’s always gonna be ready with a soft smile for Edwin. My Notes: The boys taking care of each other after getting injured will always be one of my fav genres.

Wait, I'm Coming Too By: flowerbritts @flowerbritts Rating: T Tags: Feelings Realization, Misunderstandings, Protective Charles Rowland, Hurt/Comfort, Case Fic, FIrst Kiss Summary: Edwin was changing. Charles couldn't help but see this as strange as 'Edwin' and 'change' were usually never in the same sentence. But Charles noticed. Charles would always notice. or Charles has to use his investigative skills to solve The Case of The Different Demeanor. My Notes: Edwin's different. Charles is struggling with that. The boys talking about their feelings after the season is over is such an underrated genre of fic and this is one of the best of those.

what is Hell to a broken heart? By: imnotcryingipromise Rating: G Tags: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Whump, Self-Sacrifice, First Kiss, Soul Bond, Protective Charles Rowland Summary: "You'd trade your soul?" the demon asks, evidently mystified but intrigued. "For his?" Charles breathes out a humourless laugh. "His is worth more than ten of mine," he submits. "But I doubt you value souls of quality. You demons want anger, yeah? And pain? You feed off it... Well I'm full of it." *** Hell returns to reclaim Edwin. Desperate to protect his friend, Charles offers up his soul instead. My Notes: Charles trying to save Edwin from going back to Hell by sacrificing himself? SIGN ME UP!

what some circumstance stole By: Chrome @catalists Rating: T Tags: Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Torture, Kidnapping, Hurt Edwin Payne, Protective Charles Rowland Summary: For a magic-user intent on siphoning pain for power, both Hob Gadling and Edwin Payne represent unique opportunities. United in dire circumstances, a man incapable of dying and a boy long dead forge an unusual friendship--and try to survive the experience. --- “When you died,” Hob said. “How old were you?” “Sixteen.” “That,” Hob said, “Is awful.” Edwin shrugged. “Life is, I’m afraid,” he said. “Can be wonderful, too,” Hob said. “I promise.” My Notes: I have never seen Sandman, but this story hit me hard. It has everything! Hurt Edwin with Charles being protective and an interesting case too! And Hob is a great POV character that I grew from not knowing at all to LOVING by the end.

what was there to complain of, but that he had been loved? By: imnotcryingipromise Rating: T Tags: Fix-it, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, Love Triangles, Angst with a Happy Ending, Protective Charles Rowland, PTSD Summary: "Edwin!" Charles' anxious plea brings him back to the present. They are just inches from one another, the younger boy’s hands pressed to either side of his inconsolable companion's face. "Stay with me, yeah?" Charles whispers. *** Following Niko’s death, Edwin begins having panic attacks. Charles is torn between his desperate desire to console his oldest friend and his duty to the girl he cares for. My Notes: Charles insisting on giving Edwin comfort when Edwin insists he doesn't need any is such a good trope. And I love Charles running after Edwin when he runs away.

Who Would You Kill For? By: Asoftdaniel ourbluehours on twitter Rating: T Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Troture, Protective Charles Rowland, Violent Thoughts, Cuddling & Snuggling, Hurt Edwin Payne, Angst Summary: Edwins' screams mulled Charles' soul into pieces. He was unable to reach him, the iron collar a burning reminder carving his skin with the guilt. No matter how much he struggled against the choker, no matter how many threats were shouted, he couldn't stop Edwin’s tortured wails. He would make that witch pay. He would make everything alright. or the events from the last episode written slightly different– more violent and sentimental– and the aftermath while comforting away some deep scars. My Notes: Charles going ferral on Esther after she tortures Edwin is catnip to me.

Who? You mean your teammate in the Codependency World Cup? - Series By: RoseGanymede95 @oxbellows Rating: G-M Tags: Case Fic, Whump, Hurt/Comfort, Protective Edwin Payne, Protective Charles Rowland, Angst Summary: The pre-canon adventures of Edwin and Charles. In which they love each other a whole lot and neither one has any idea how to be normal about it. My Notes: Yes I did put all of Codependency together because otherwise it would have taken 5 slots lol This is highly rated for a reason, if you haven't read it yet, what are you doing??? Go read it! The characterization of Edwin and Charles is spot on and the writing itself is delightful. Everytime it updates the entire DBDA Haunt server screams about it. If that doesn't tell you all you need to know then nothing will!

Will it shine forever? By: Asoftdaniel ourbluehours on twitter Rating: G Tags: AU - Canon Divergence, AU - Soulmates, Angst, Protective Charles Rowland, Soul Bond Summary: “He is gone,” Charles choked out, wet and desperate, “I can’t feel him Crystal, he is gone.” It rang true, sucking all the oxygen in the space around them until it was painfully obvious that, even if soulmates could be separated by Death, Hell would have to try a lot harder. Even if the soul mark was gone and Charles grieved the loss of half his soul, he would wreak havoc until there was nothing left of him. Or: the soulmate au where when Edwin gets taken to Hell the soul mark and ‘soul bond’ disappears, leaving Charles uncertain if Edwin is still even ‘alive’ yet he goes down to Hell anyways. My Notes: Soulmate AUs are some of my favorites and I love this one partially because Charles not being able to feel Edwin anymore when he is dragged to Hell hit me right in the gut.

Your flickering light By: tragedy_machine @tragedy-machine Rating: T Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Protective Charles Rowland, Feelings Realization, PTSD Summary: Charles sees it happen in real time. He sees how Edwin goes from distressed to so deeply panicked it’s evident that his mind goes to a completely different place. He also sees the moment Edwin flickers and simply sinks through the floor. Edwin phasing through one floor to get to the one below wouldn’t be anything to write home about, except for the fact that they already are on the utmost ground floor. There was nothing underneath the house but a few meters of concrete, followed by rock and dirt. OR: Edwin gets triggered during an attack which causes him to disappear and a panicked Charles has to figure out how to find him before it's too late My Notes: The idea of Edwin falling through the floor due to panic has stuck in my brain from the first time I read this fic months ago. I love the moment when Charles finds him half buried in the ground. It is just so good.

And that's the full 100!

But we aren't done yet! Tune in tomorrow for:

Part 11- Bonus WIPs day!

[bellysoupset]

Well since Wendy needs some love and I'm on a FaceTime roll (and I may have already asked for this once before, lol), how about a mini-fic where she and Vince are facetiming and he's all burpy and she's getting really flustered, so he embellishes? You can decide whether it turns into actual emeto and/or phone sex or just stays cute and fluffy. (Or if he has to get off the call for some reason suddenly, and she's all grumpy cause now she's got to take care of herself, lol).

😳😳😳😳

-------------------------------

"Hey gorgeous," Vince's voice was smooth, if a little tired, and Wendy opened a blinding smile. It was an average Wednesday night and she had just gotten home from her interior design classes and was dead on her feet, but most importantly, missing him, "how was your day?"

"Exhaustive," Wendy answered him truthfully, propping her phone against her vanity and sitting before it to start removing her make up. She stole a glance and melted, Vince had put his phone on top of his bedside table and was sitting in the middle of his bed, legs crisscrossed, wearing just his boxers. His curly hair was humid, fresh out of shower and he had a pile of papers near his knee.

"What happened?" he looked up from the papers, picking up a red pen and Wendy cleared her throat, blushing as she was caught gawking on him.

"Nothing," her face was on fire, "nothing, uhm- It was just a long day. My shift started at-" Wendy yawned, squinting her eyes as she did and when she opened them Vince was smiling fondly at her, "started at 6 AM, so I was up before that and just got home now."

"It's a wonder you're even coherent," Vince frowned, "don't you think you're biting off a bit much, Wen? Work every day, plus classes?"

Wendy pouted, this wasn't a new discussion they had. Vince understood she didn't want to just sit at home after work, or at least he said he did, but he couldn't wrap his mind around the sheer amount of stuff she did, "Vin..."

"I'm just saying gi-" he grimaced suddenly and ducked his head, pressing a fist to his lips as a small burp rushed up. Vin wrinkled his nose in distaste, but kept talking as if nothing had happened, "give your body a break, honey."

She cursed herself silently, that such a mundane thing like a little burp was enough to have her cheeks burning. Wendy shook her head, forcing her eyes away from the phone screen and concentrating in removing her mascara, "I don't need a break, I like keeping busy."

"There's busy and there's overworking," Vince pointed out gently and Wendy let out a huff.

"Says the man with a pile of work on the bed," she said sharply and heard a little startled chuckle.

"Okay, I'm nothing if not a hypocrite," he admitted lightly, "but that doesn't change that we're both in the wro-ugh," Wendy's eyes darted to the screen and sure enough Vince was rubbing his chest with an uneasy expression on. She dropped her cotton ball, staring as he patted between his pecs until a small burp came up, "ugh, excuse me. Sorry," Vince looked at the screen and then raised his eyebrows, "damn, honey, that's an intense glare."

Wendy scrambled back slightly, hiding her face with her hands, "sorry! Sorry, I didn't mean to be such a perv! I'm-"

"Relax," Vince sounded amused, "relax, Wen, it's okay..."

She lowered her hands, knuckles still pressed to her mouth, and looked at him. Vince raised his eyebrows in a smug way, "I love knowing you still find me hot in every circumstance. Truly, how will I ever be loved like this?"

"Oh shut up," Wendy groaned, but before she could say anything else, Vince planted a hand to his stomach and made a small wince.

"My belly's a little upset."

"Fuck you," Wendy glared at the phone, feeling her face tingle and ears burn, "fuck you so much."

"Bet you wanna," Vince grinned at her, rubbing lazily at his stomach, "it's feeling all... Queasy."

"Shut uuup," Wendy whined, lowering her head in shame and heard her boyfriend let out a chuckle.

"You're adorable," his voice was brimming with glee, "really, though, dinner isn't sitting well. I went over to my parent's today and Soph pushed half her plate in mine, it's feeling heavy as hell."

Wendy bit at her lip, raising her head to look at him, "you're faking it."

"I'm not," Vince shook his head, "it's just some indigestion, I'm sure, but I'm not faking."

"Uhmm...," She breathed in deeply, trying collect herself, "well, get some tums, they'll help. What are you working on?"

"Essays about ancient Rome," Vince patted the pile of paper, successfully distracted from his mission at giving her a stroke, "I asked the kids to pick their favorite roman figure we learned about and write a small essay."

"The kids or the teens?"

"The kids," Vince rolled his eyes, moving on the bed so he was propped against the pillows and grabbing the papers. Wendy returned to the task at hand, taking the phone and getting up, bringing him to the bathroom with her. She heard Vince start to babble about the figures picked and smiled, heart fluttering at the clear excitement in his voice.

She grabbed a cleansing foam to get rid of all the vestiges and her electric facial brush, leaning against the sink as she watched Vince flip through the pages, "Ellie picked Nero," he said with a huge smile that almost showed his molars, "she's eleven."

"How many picked the wrong Mark Anthony?" Wendy joked and Vince let out a chuckle, fiddling through the papers.

"At least one-" halfway through his sentence Vince's mouth snapped shut and he gulped down, paling considerably since Wendy was able to notice even though his room wasn't brightly lit. She felt her mouth dry up.

"Vin?"

Instead of answering her, he held up a finger and turned his head, eyes squeezed shut.

Wendy squirmed, turning off the electrical brush and planting it on the sink, staring at her phone intently.

Vince gulped down once more, before letting up a thick, wet belch, his face turned away from the phone. There was no way he was faking that, Wendy thought, as she heard the noise of liquid splashing in his throat, but him forcing it down.

"Honey?"

"Oof," Vince had a displeased grimace on, "ew. Dinner's definitely messing with me."

"Maybe-" she couldn't string up a thought together, "maybe your- your mom used milk?"

Vince winced at the thought, looking more queasy than before, "I hope not," he said bitterly, lowering the papers away and planting a hand on the swell of his stomach. He pressed his fingers in gently and Wendy sucked in a breath as she heard his belly gurgle even through the phone.

"Fuck," she whispered, turning to wash the cleaning foam off her cheeks, while in the phone Vince laughed.

"I swear I'm not trying to mess with you," he said and Wendy splashed some of the cold water on her nape, feeling like her whole body was overheated.

"Trying or not, it's working," she admitted, past feeling embarrassed, squeezing her legs together, "aren't you gonna take something to settle it?"

He shrugged, "and miss out you looking at me as if I'm blasting porn in your screen?"

Wendy glared at him, "you're gonna keep feeling sick just to embarrass me?"

"Embarrass you?" Vince frowned now, "honey, I'm not trying to embarrass you, I'm just enjoying seeing you this turned on. If you want I can hang up..."

"NO!" She said too quickly, scrambling and causing her phone to fall down against her soap dispenser. Wendy retrieved it quickly, "no, no, don't hang up."

"Yeah?" Vince smiled, although he still looked a little unsure and Wendy shook her head vehemently, walking back to her bed and falling into it, her skincare routine be damned.

"Don't hang up," she shuffled on the bed, changing her phone to her left hand and sliding her right one under the hem of her pants, "talk to me? How are you feeling?" her voice dropped a whole note and Vince's hesitance vanished in a split second, his dark eyes getting a hungry look, a smug smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

"Really, really bad..."

[alienoresimagines]

For the ask game, 1, 3, 15, and 28!

Thank you for the ask, Dawn ❤️ Starting with the last question because if I want anyone to remember one thing from this post, it's those recs so putting this in the Clegan tag for more visibility for the fic recs🫡

28. Share three of your favorite fic writers and why you like them so much

The Mota fandom has so many talented writers who share absolute masterpieces so it was so so hard to narrow it down to 3 but I tried to put 3 authors I don't see as often as others in fic recs post and I hope that for those who don't know them, this'll be your sign to read their works ❤️ So, in no particular order and wih hope that I didn't mess up any link :

@amiserableseriesofevents (Link to AO3)

I devour absolutely every single one of Ginia's fics, even those that tear my heart apart because she's the devil and she loves to make everyone suffer. Some of her fics are the definition of "The love is there. It just simply isn't enough" and all of her fics are "The love is there". The way she writes the Buckies falling in love in different ways is so beautiful every single time, no matter what situation she's put them in. I remember Love At Second Sight to be one of the first fics I've ever read for Clegan and it'll always be one of my It fic. Also I think it takes a special kind of skills to be able to write characters in AU while keeping the essence of those characters because they are so shaped by canon that it can be hard to see who they are if you take those circumstances away but Ginia nails it every single time. She has a couple of different AUs, but they're all undeniably John and Gale, and reading them falling in love and getting together in all those different situations is so so wonderful because with her writing it doesn't feel like you're reading but more like you're there, like a little familiar on the protagonist shoulder <3 Only nobody hears when you inevitably howl because there was too much feeling for you to handle lol

Special mentions to those stories that have my entire heart :

I think the love I bear you should make you not to die or the Timelines AU my beloved, precious darling

The man I've looked for that may or may not be one of my comfort fics of all time

ships in the night aka I might just die if they don't meet again and their almost stays an almost because this AU has my life, I would sacrifice anything to have more of them

@caustinen (Link to AO3)

Obviously there's the Hollywood AU that has a very special place in my heart but every headcanon and fic of theirs 😍 I think about those quite often, especially sharp dressed man that's one of my favorite smut fic in the clegan tag! I just love their overall takes on Gale and John, and on Clegan. Even if it's not set in canon, it's always so clearly them that you have no difficulty picturing them in that universe and that really is a feat ❤️ And the diversity of all those universes is mindblowing, I love it, so much creativity and different scenarios to put the Buckies in 🥹

@majorbuckyegan (Link to AO3)

Definitely one of those writers I get a fangirl moment for when they write a comment on one of my fics lol, their never saw the sun shining so bright fic (or Five kisses that Bucky stole from Buck, and one kiss that Buck stole in return) lives in my head rent-free. I can't tell you how many times I've read it and imagined it as a daydream to help me fall asleep, it's one of my favorite fics in the entire world. Also I read it when I hadn't watched Mota yet so that's one of the fics that introduced me to them and I wouldn't be surprised if my own characterization of the Buckies is lowkey inspired by those works like this one that I've read before watching the show. It's so soft and tender, and yet you never really forget the war. The war is everywhere but so is the love and the balance between the two in every single fic is an absolute gem every time. For tonight, let's love like there's no goodbye is also one of my favorite fics in the fandom, the way you just go into John's head and his thoughts and you can feel how much they love each other is so 🥹❤️❤️

It's come to my attention that all three of these writers are also fantastic smut writers so that's important too, especially because personally, I'm not too much of a smut person, my favorite parts of smut are the feelings involved lol, and all three write pure love making, the feelings are so beautiful and merge so well with the smut, I love it 🥹

Also cheating a bit because technically that's a fourth writer but I have to mention you, Dawn 🥹 The Atonement AU is especially dear to my heart, and the snippets you've shared with us are absolutely stunning! I'm truly in love with your writing style, I don't know how to explain it but it's like the love Gale and John have for each other is so raw that it actually kind of chokes me up a bit, because it's so big and they love each other so much 🥹 And the way you weave words together is so lyrical and gripping that you don't just read what they're feeling, you're feeling it with them if you know what I mean. And I'm repeating myself but, even if I know it might not save them, the love in your writing is so overwhelming that it's obvious that you're loving writing it and that might be my favorite part of it <3

This was very nice to do, it's been a while since I've dived in my bookmarks like that! Also served me as a reminder that most of those 180 Clegan fics were bookmarked before I got the nerve to start commenting on fics so adding on the new Year's resolution to go through them again and leave a comment <3

That got very long so under the read more are the answers to the other questions :)

1. Describe your comfort zone—a typical you-fic.

Well. A typical me-fic starts as a could-be-2k-fic then I start yapping and it ends up over 6k so I suppose I'll try to think of what makes me yap the most. Definitely either pining that the protagonist (usually Gale lol) doesn't see is mutual or the Buckies already being in love and them waxing poetry about each other 🥹 So fluffy/pining love with too many metaphors is probably my comfort zone 🫡

3. Is there a trope you wouldn’t touch with a ten foot pole?

I don't know if it's a trope per say, but horror or too gory stuff I'd say. I'm not really into reading it so writing it would be pure suffering I think 😂 Whump and wounds I might dip my toes in but body horror, painful transformation are definitely not in my range

15. If you could choose one of your fics to be filmed, which would you choose?

Oooh this is so tough because when I write I see the scenes in my head like a movie, like the camera closing on certain elements for examples 😭

I'd say either I'm On The Run With You My Sweet Love because I love the setting of the lake in a summer's day, how carefree they can both be and the softness of their love or Never Coming Down With Your Hand In Mine because I could see it so clearly in my mind while I was writing it, the way their hands compliment each other and the contrast between how rough they look vs how gentle they are with the other. Also I could really see the winter light filtering through the window, with little feckles of dust in the air and you can see them sitting side by side, all reddened cheeks from the cold that turn to blushes because they're both in love 🥹 I would love to see Gale's sweet face as he smiles at the ground and John's looking at him so fondly and loving 🥹 The shot of Gale squeezing John's hand back would be so special to me 🥹

[bitethedevil]

A Portrait of A Cambion

Link to this fic on AO3

Summary: Raphael rejects his icky mortal feelings for Tav because he remembers what happens when one is distracted by matters of the heart. He reminisces about a woman who taught him how to paint and who stole his non-existent heart over a thousand years ago.

(This is essentially a sort of 'origin story' headcanon that I ended up writing into a fic because people were asking about my dark headcanon that Raphael has experienced love before, but Mephistopheles took it from him. It ended up as a fic because I had a very specific image in my head of how Raphael fell in love for the first time and how he lost that love. Also cambions don't have a heart. Source?: Pulled it out of my ass.) TW: Mention of Death, Blood, Abusive Relationship with Parent (although that should almost be a given with Mephistopheles in the tags)

Another nightmare about Tav. This time it had not been about her and her fellow adventurers besting him. Instead, he had dreamt about her dying a cruel death.

He shouldn’t care and he didn’t, but his mind was sabotaging him and in the midst of the dream, he had felt fear for her. It shook Raphael awake from his nightly meditation and made him sit up in his bed.

He rubbed his eyes and sneered at that disgusting mortal feeling that still lingered in his chest. He had to remind himself that she was no more than a means to an end.

He could not afford such distractions, especially now when the crown was so close…

Raphael’s eyes drifted to the right-hand portrait in his boudoir, the one where he hid his safe behind.

There it was again. That stabbing feeling in his chest. He could not even remember the face of the painter that had made the portrait, but looking at that painting was just the reminder he needed: Distractions will cost you dearly.

It was over a thousand years ago that he had met her. It was before he had even laid his eyes on the Crown of Karsus and witnessed Netheril’s fall. He was still perfecting his art when it came to soul collecting. Back then he mainly went after the most desperate of the desperate and this girl could not have been more perfect.

Her name was Lucienna and she lived in Westgate, a city known for its history with criminal organizations and piracy. The young human woman had managed to make herself quite unpopular with the group of mercenaries that ruled the city then.

She was on the run with two of Westgate’s best killers at her heels when Raphael unceremoniously whisked her away to the Hells. Back then he still lived in Cania under his father’s rule.

The young woman took in her new surroundings while she tried to catch her breath. She looked up at Raphael who was still in his human form.

“Where am I?” she wheezed, out of breath. “And thank you, I suppose.”

“The Eighth Layer of the Hells,” Raphael explained smoothly. He found no reason to pretend when her contract was already as good as signed with the circumstances, she found herself in.

“…Oh,” she said a bit too calmly for Raphael’s liking and nodded.

“Quite a mess you’ve found yourself in, dear,” Raphael said with a smile. “Was it worth it? The protesting, I mean?”

Lucienna narrowed her green eyes at him.

He had done his research. The whole reason that she was on the hitlist of the mercenary government of Westgate, was all because of some posters, she had made and plastered around the city. They criticized the government and called the population to protest.

“It was actually worth it, yes,” she said with defensiveness in her voice. “And I’d do it again.”

She crossed her arms and looked at him. Raphael looked her up and down with a smile on his face.

“I saw your work before they were all taken down and burned,” Raphael said. “You are clearly talented. As a great admirer of the arts, it would pain me to see someone with so much to offer the world dead in a ditch somewhere. Which is why I have a proposal for you…”

“Whatever you are selling, I don’t want any,” she said and interrupted his sales-pitch. “Who are you anyway?”

“Oh, do forgive my manners. I am Raphael,” he said with a bow and in a flash of fire he was in his cambion form. “Very much at your service.”

Her eyes widened for a moment at the reveal of his true nature, but she quickly gathered herself.

“I mean…” she said. “I suppose I could have guessed since you said we were in the Hells, but…”

She looked him up and down, studying his form for a moment before looking back at his smug face.

“I still stand by what I said,” she said stubbornly. “Especially if my soul is the price.”

Raphael’s smirk faltered. He had been so certain that this would have been an easy deal.

“Perhaps you don’t grasp the severity of your situation,” Raphael said with a dramatic hand gesture. “I can make this whole mess disappear if you simply sign my contract. If you do not, I will simply send you back to the exact spot I found you to be hunted for sport by the best killers Westgate has to offer.”

She nodded slowly.

“I’ll take my chances,” she said with a shrug.

Raphael’s brow furrowed. That was not what he wanted to hear.

“Suit yourself,” Raphael said with a sneer and snapped his fingers to send her back to where she came from.

If the little idiot so desperately wanted to walk into her own grave, Raphael would not stop her. However, it did infuriate him that she did not even seem the least bit interested in even hearing his offer. If she did, by some miracle, survive, she could be certain that Raphael was not done with her.

Raphael followed her movements through the city closely. Luck seemed to be on her side because she did eventually make it out of the city in one piece. He tracked her to a house in the middle of nowhere out on the countryside. He kept an eye on her little hiding spot for a couple of weeks before approaching her.

He manifested in a room where a small fortune in painting supplies laid scattered everywhere. There were paintings leaning up against every wall. His person of interest sat in the middle of the room. She looked up from the canvas she was working on and jumped at his presence.

“Are you ready to accept my kind offer or do you intend to hide here for the rest of your days?” Raphael asked with a smile.

“Shhh,” she hushed and put a finger to her lips. “Please, lower your voice. My father might hear you.”

She was bold, he would give her that. Raphael huffed in annoyance but complied.

“Well?” he asked in a more hushed voice.

“I’m perfectly content here, thank you,” she said while her focus returned to the painting she was working on.

Raphael could not believe what he was hearing.

“Please correct me if I misunderstand,” Raphael said. “You would run from the very city that you have been fighting to protect from tyranny, to stay here? You are aware that the mercenaries of Westgate do not forget a face and that you getting out of the city does not mean that you are safe?”

“I understand just fine,” she said calmly. “I did what I could, and it wasn’t enough. I know I’m not safe but that doesn’t mean I want to hand over my soul to you...No offense, of course.”

Her stubbornness was getting on his nerves. Perhaps, it would just be easier to leave her alone, as it seemed he was getting nowhere with her. She was a hopeless case.

“Raphael, was it?” she asked and looked at him.

Raphael nodded with a tired look in his eyes.

“I had a feeling that you would be back, so I have something for you, Raphael,” she said and got up from her chair. “If you don’t like it, I won’t take offense.”

Raphael’s brow furrowed as he watched her go pick up a painting. This was new.

She picked up the canvas that was almost as big as her and turned it around so he could see it. His eyes softened, despite himself.

It was a painting of him in his cambion form, painted in shades of orange. He was wearing armor and was holding a flame in one hand in the painting. He looked imposing yet regal. It was beautifully done.

“The likeness isn’t perfect,” she said with a shrug. “But I also only ever met you that one time, so…”

Raphael blinked and tried to hide how impressed he was with her work.

“Why did you do this?” he asked and looked at her.

“My little trip to the Hells was long enough for the people chasing me to lose my trail,” she explained. “So, if it hadn’t been for you, I probably would be dead.”

His eyes drifted back to the painting.

“Besides, I’ve never seen a devil before,” she said. “I thought you looked quite impressive, so I guess I got inspired. You did say that you were an ‘admirer of the arts’, so I thought it could be compensation for saving my life.”

He was flattered, even though he would never admit it. He could not remember ever receiving a gift willingly from a mortal like this.

“Do you like it?” she asked softly, as if she was half-expecting a ‘no’.

“It’s beautiful,” he said with a nod. “You are quite talented, like I said when we first met.”

“It’s yours, if you want it,” she said with a smile.

“Thank you,” he said briefly, smiling back at her. He snapped his fingers and teleported the painting to a safe location in his house.

They were quiet for a moment. For once, Raphael was not sure what to say. There was no more business to talk about, but it also felt wrong to simply leave after receiving such a gift. It was Lucienna that ended up breaking the silence.

“So, do you paint?” she asked.

“No, I do not,” he answered and cleared his throat. “I’m afraid it is one of the few things that I have never sat down to properly learn. Although, I do see the appeal and I certainly do appreciate the art.”

“Do you want to learn?” she asked. “I’ve taught students before, you know…”

Although the idea of some mortal teaching him anything did not fill him with joy, he was tempted. Perhaps he could gain her trust and make her sign his deal anyway, as he had already wasted too much time on her. It also gave him an opportunity to study this odd mortal who did not seem to fear him.

“Hm,” he hummed in thought. “Yes, why not?”

They kept meeting in her father’s basement as Lucienna taught him how to paint. Raphael started enjoying the sessions. There was something about it. It brought him a sense of peace to paint. He did not mind the compliments to his progress either. She was good at teaching him without ever being condescending.

“You’re a natural at this, you know,” she said, leaning on his shoulder as she watched him work. “The only note I have is to work on the colors. This part isn’t actually red. It’s brown.”

She pointed to the bowl of fruit on the table.

“Are you telling me that red apples are not red?” Raphael said with a chuckle.

She smiled as she mixed some colors onto a piece of paper and held it next to the apple.

“That’s because you use your head too much and not your eyes,” she said. “This is painting. Not writing.”

Raphael huffed. She was right, of course. He could see when she held the paper next to it.

Whenever he practiced at home, it was always the same motif: her. He was determined to eventually pay her back for the gift she gave him. He noticed that Lucienna’s hair was not red either, but rather nuances of brown, orange, and gold. Her eyes were also not entirely green, but rather shades of brown, green and yellow.

Somewhere along the way, the contract was brought up more as an excuse to be in her presence, rather than him actually wanting her soul. In the end it was not brought up at all. Raphael knew that she was too stubborn to sign it anyway, and perhaps she was right: perhaps she was truly safe in this peaceful little haven away from everything.

He enjoyed her company, though he loathed to admit it. The way she would lean on his shoulder when she was watching him work. The way that she looked almost insane when she was deep in concentration, with a paintbrush in her mouth or stuck in her hair as she painted like her life depended on it. The way that they could be in each other’s presence for hours without even saying a word to each other.

He knew that she liked him, but for some reason he did not want to exploit it in the same way he had done with earlier clients. It would have been all too easy to manipulate her into a deal by playing on her feelings, yet he never did.

Lucienna became an indulgence. Someone to take him far way from the endless clients and the toiling for his ungrateful father. Away from all the devils in the Hells that loathed him and away from all the mortals that feared him. Just for a moment.

It was the day when he finally decided to give her the portrait that he had painted of her that their relationship furthered into unknown territory for Raphael.

After he had made endless excuses about him not being as talented as her, he had shown her the painting that he had been working endlessly on from home. Her face brightened up and she pulled him into a kiss. After the initial shock, he wrapped his arms around her and melted into it.

Raphael was far from new to the concept of sex, although those below the Archdevils were not supposed to indulge in such things. The difference was that most of his sexual experiences had been with the incubi and succubi of his father’s palace, or rehearsed manipulation tactics he had used to lure clients. Both of which were exceptions that were acceptable for a devil of his lower rank.

This was new and most definitely forbidden, because this bordered on that awfully mortal feeling: love. Sex with her was so different from the almost theatrical performance of the incubi and succubi that he had been with during his longer visits to his father. Raphael also found no desire to put on a rehearsed performance himself.

Sex with Lucienna was clumsy and imperfect in a highly intoxicating way. They got completely lost in each other and nothing else mattered in that moment. It was heated and passionate, but in such a genuine way that it took Raphael’s breath away.

When they were done, Lucienna rested her head on his chest. Raphael was brushing his fingers through her hair when he suddenly felt her tense up a bit.

“What is it?” he asked softly.

“Your heartbeat…” she said and pressed her ear to his chest again. “You don’t have one…”

Raphael chuckled and smiled.

“I don’t have a heart, dear,” he explained. “It works differently for devils.”

“Hm,” she said and nuzzled her head against his chest. “Maybe you don’t have a literal heart, but you won’t convince me that you don’t at least have one metaphorically.”

“Oh, how dare you?” Raphael chided jokingly. “I have a reputation to uphold.”

“Mm…you can��t fool me,” she said and smiled. “It is slightly unsettling though…To not hear anything when you expect to.”

“I’m sure,” he said, tracing the soft skin of her arms with his fingers.

She got off his chest to lay down on her back. She patted her chest with a hand, inviting him to lay down on it.

“Here, listen to mine,” she said with a smile.

Raphael hesitated. The vulnerability of such an act did not sit well with him, but he had quickly found that he had a hard time denying this woman of anything.

He put his head on her chest and listened to her heartbeat. She held him close and rested her chin on his head. It would have looked comical for an outsider to see this much bigger man being held by this small woman, but Raphael found that he did not care.

He would never admit it to anyone, but he felt safe. Loved even. Perhaps, for the first time in his long life. There was a feeling, a flutter, in the place where his heart would have been, had he been a mortal man. They fell asleep like that together.

When he finally returned to his house in Cania in the morning, it was difficult to wipe the smile from his face. He could not stop thinking about her. He sat down to write, to try and clear his mind and record this feeling of happiness that he had not tasted for years.

“Mephistopheles missed you last night,” a voice said.

Raphael looked up to find one of Mephistopheles’s warlocks leaned against the wall, watching him. Raphael had forgotten everything about the meeting that he had promised to attend.

“Care to explain?” the warlock asked.

“I was working, Lestor,” Raphael replied coldly.

“All night? What a dutiful boy you are,” Lestor said with that shit-eating grin that Raphael had gotten so used to seeing.

It took everything to not lose his temper and tear the warlock apart for having the nerve to call him ‘boy’. Raphael knew the consequences if he did. Mephistopheles enjoyed sending mortal warlocks to spy on his son, simply to remind Raphael that he was not even worth sending another devil for.

“There were complications,” Raphael said through gritted teeth. “Please, do send Mephistopheles my deepest apologies.”

“Complications, eh?” Lestor said with a knowing smile that made Raphael slightly paranoid. “I will make sure to tell him how deeply sorry you are. Remember that you are needed at the palace these next couple of days. Whatever ‘work’ you have can wait.”

Lestor left his house. Raphael’s paranoia grew when he was left alone. Lestor couldn’t have known, could he? He had been so careful, and no one knew where she lived…

There was nothing that Raphael could do about it now. He had to get through the next couple of days before he could return to her, or he would feel his father’s wrath.

Five days later, Raphael finally had time for himself, and he decided to visit the woman who had occupied his mind ever since he returned to the Hells.

The first sign that something was wrong was that the door to the house stood open. Lucienna’s father was a paranoid man who always locked his doors.

Not two steps into the house, was the old man that he had only spoken to a couple of times during his visits. He laid sprawled on the floor, ripped apart and covered in his own blood.

Raphael’s blood in his veins turned to ice, as he saw the sigil of the mercenaries of Westgate smeared in blood on the wall.

“No…” Raphael mumbled to himself and ran to the basement.

There she was. A paintbrush in her hair, exactly where she always put them when she was focused on working. Her green eyes, that weren’t really green, stared emptily up into the ceiling above her.

“No…no…” Raphael said and fell to his knees beside her.

He leaned his head down to her chest. He knew there was no way she would be alive with the way she had been torn apart, but he had to check. The comforting pitter-patter of her heart that he had fallen asleep to just five days earlier, was gone. Raphael cried for the first time in a millennium.

“I told you…you stubborn woman…” he said angrily and brushed his fingers gently through her red hair. “You weren’t safe…”

He held her in his arms while he sobbed. He was spiraling. The emotional walls that he had used hundreds of years to build up had crashed down around him, and for a moment he was experiencing a millennium worth of pure mortal grief and sadness all at once.

He looked at her. At all the paintings that were stacked around him. He noticed that the portrait he had given her had already been hung up on the wall, and it sent a sharp pain through his chest where his heart would have been.

His eyes finally locked unto the sigil that was painted with blood on the wall, with the words under it: “Westgate does not forget”. His sadness slowly boiled into anger. Anger overtook every ounce of his being when he heard a familiar grating voice behind him:

“Mephistopheles wants to talk to you, boy,” Lestor said.

He could practically hear the smug smile in the warlock’s voice. That little shit had known, and he had informed Westgate of her whereabouts. Something in Raphael snapped.

Raphael spent that afternoon doing unspeakable things to his father’s warlock. When he was done, he burned the whole house down. He burned the all the paintings in there, the mangled corpse of Lestor, Lucienna’s father, and Lucienna, the one woman who ever loved him. A part of Raphael burned away in that fire as well. If he could, he would happily have burned down to ash with them. He felt dead inside as he returned to Cania to face his father.

“You spit in my face by not showing up to our meetings and now you arrive late yet again. I sent Lestor to collect you five hours ago. Where is he?” Mephistopheles voice boomed throughout the throne room.

“Lestor is dead,” Raphael answered.

“Dead?” Mephistopheles asked in a dangerously low voice and leaned forward on his frozen throne. “Why? Because he did his job and informed me that you were too busy fucking mortals instead of doing your job of collecting their souls?”

Raphael inhaled slowly, trying to calm the rage inside him.

“I promise you, son,” Mephistopheles said the word ‘son’ as if it was a joke to him. “Fucking mortal women isn’t worth the headache. It’s how you end up with useless fucking half-breed bastards like you.”

Raphael swallowed hard and looked at the ground, as the devils in his father’s court snickered and laughed at him.

“You have high thoughts about yourself,” Mephistopheles said. “But let me remind you that you are not even close to a rank where you are entitled to stick your cock in anything or to keep consorts! Those privileges are reserved for Archdevils exclusively, which you are not. The only reason you are alive, is because I see use for you. I will not tolerate you getting distracted from your purpose. You work for me! Is that clear?”

Raphael hated that his father could still make him flinch, just by yelling at him. He nodded.

“Yes, my lord,” Raphael said quietly, still grinding his teeth in frustration.

“Good, my boy,” Mephistopheles said with a smile that would make anyone uncomfortable.

Raphael bowed his head and turned to leave.

“One last thing,” Mephistopheles called out. “I have a gift for my little would-be lordling.”

Raphael took a deep breath and turned around. Whatever this was, it could not be good. Mephistopheles smirked at him and snapped his fingers. Someone entered the throne room and Raphael’s closed his eyes in embarrassment at the sight.

One of his father’s incubi that Raphael had slept with during one of his visits to the palace, walked through the door. They were wearing Raphael’s form. They sauntered into the room, wearing skimpy leather clothing.

The throne room was filled with roaring laughter. Even Mephistopheles was laughing from his frozen throne.

“A fitting consort for you, wouldn’t you say, boy?” Mephistopheles chuckled. “Since you only ever seem to think about yourself. Their name is Haarlep. Give it a few nights with them and you won’t even remember that little mortal bitch you seemed so obsessed with.”

Rage was threatening to overtake him. He wanted to kill every last laughing devil in the room. He wanted to give his father the most excruciating death he could think of. Raphael also knew that he was no match for any of them. He had to bide his time, and that time would come someday. He would make sure of it.

“What do you say then?” Mephistopheles said, looking down on him from his throne.

Raphael looked at the incubus with disdain and then at his father. Raphael wanted to say many things in that moment: That he would one day take his father’s throne. That Mephistopheles would one day cower at the feet of his son. That he did not care if he had to wait millennium after millennium for him to finally get his revenge.

Raphael took a deep breath and bit his tongue, though it took everything in him to do so.

“Thank you, my lord,” Raphael said through gritted teeth.

“Good boy,” Mephistopheles said with a smile. “Now get out of my sight. I hope you have learned something from this.”

Raphael was sitting in his bed, looking at the right-hand painting in his boudoir. The painting that Lucienna had gifted him all those years ago. He had spent so much money throughout the years on getting it carefully restored.

He couldn’t remember her face anymore, but he could remember all those colors he studied when he looked at her. Her red hair, that was not red, but rather nuances of brown, orange, and gold. Her eyes that were not entirely green, but rather shades of brown, green and yellow. He heard the sound of her heartbeat in his mind each time he went to rest.

When he looked at Tav, that stubborn whelp, he sometimes found himself wondering what her heartbeat sounded like. Wondering which colors he would use if he were to paint her hair and her eyes. And there it was again that flutter where his heart would have been if he had one. Lucienna’s words echoed in his mind.

“Maybe you don’t have a literal heart, but you won’t convince me that you don’t at least have one metaphorically.”

No. He didn’t and he couldn’t. That part of him was dead and gone and it would remain that way. Raphael shook his head and crushed that feeling in his chest. No more distractions. Not when he was so close to the crown. Not when he was so close to finally getting his revenge.

[sammyboyimagines]

Trust Me

Pairing: Robin Buckley x fem!Reader x Platonic!Steve

Summary: Robin is trying to hide her relationship with you from Steve. He is adamant about figuring out her secret. 2.5k words

Warnings: swearing, insecurities.

//first fic back on Tumblr! I'm excited but also nervous bc idk my workload so updates might be sparse.

Robin anxiously glanced at the small silver watch on her arm, her heart pounding out of her chest. The fluorescent lights gave Robin a headache as she stole looks at the clock at Family Video every 30 minutes for the last few hours. Uncharacteristically quiet, Robin, who was known for her boisterous personality, seemed lost in a sea of her own thoughts. Today was different. She was nervous about her upcoming date with you shortly after work.

After spending a year at Family Video after Starcourt Mall burned down, she assumed the role of a co-manager at the store. The promotion had caused a tinge of saltiness in Steve, who couldn't help but feel slighted by the decision. However, knowing Keith, he would have chosen Robin's competence over Steve's charisma any day.

Tapping her foot on the carpeted floor absentmindedly, Robin contemplated what she would say to you. Every time your eyes met hers, she found herself drowning in her emotions. Your contagious smile would leave her speechless, and any words she had planned to say evaporated into thin air.

“Hey, what’s up with you? Are you nervous or something?” Steve leaned casually against the counter, observing Robin as she stacked up some movies to be shelved. His voice carried a hint of worry, concern etched across his face.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Robin replied bluntly. She didn’t even look at him as she worked, seemingly annoyed by his presence. He furrowed his brow but decided to let it slide for now.

Steve didn’t know that Robin had a date tonight, or that she was even dating at all. He watched as Robin adjusted her collar and cast another glance at the clock yet again. He would have found her anxious state peculiar under normal circumstances, but Robin's anxious nature was something he had grown accustomed to. He decided not to mention it.

“By the way, do you want to catch a movie with me? Pretty in Pink just came out, and I remember you said you wanted to see it.” Steve suggested, with a tinge of hope in his voice, grunting quietly while he set up displays around the store. The two were within earshot thanks to the store’s both tiny and empty space.

Robin scoffed lightly at his proposal, amusement laced her tone. “I don’t think it’ll be very interesting for you, Stevie,” Robin responded, rolling her eyes as she observed Steve shrug carelessly from across the room.

“I’m seeing it for you, dumbass.” Steve retorted, taking an extra pause to admire the ‘Fast Times at Ridgemont High’ cardboard cutout of Phoebe Cates. He breathed out a quiet longing sigh and strolled over to the main desk. 

Robin shrugged. “Sorry dumbass, I’m busy tonight. Gotta get going right after my shift.” She spoke, reaching for the compact mirror in her pocket. She checked her mascara, her fingers delicately brushing over her lashes as she assessed her mascara, sighing softly as she realized she'd have to touch it up.

“Oh, yeah, that’s cool. Do you need a ride?” Steve inquired, humming a song that had been stuck in his head all day. Family Video’s music had lost its charm, it consistently played mostly the same 100 tracks just repeated over and over. They both grew sick of it after the first week of working there, but they learned to get accustomed to it.

“Nope! I have one.” Robin said, glancing at the clock. 10 minutes till 5 pm. 

Steve never considered Robin’s anxiety to be concerning, but the fact that she already had a ride was mildly worrying. For over a year, he’d grown used to picking her up every morning and driving her home every evening. It was their routine, and now all of a sudden she didn’t need his assistance? She was brushing him off without any explanation like it wasn’t their daily routine.

It was Friday evening. They had a small tradition of either going to each other's house or going to a theater to watch a movie every Friday night. Every week without fail, they never canceled on each other. Steve felt his stomach drop at this realization. If Robin was willing to push aside their movie night tradition, would she push him away too?

Meanwhile, Robin had been thinking about you all day. She hadn’t seen you for a couple of weeks since you went traveling outside of Hawkins. Robin never went anyway, mostly because she didn’t have a car, but also because she had all she needed right here. She had Steve, and you. Now that you were back, the anticipation of spending a night alone with you had her buzzing with excitement.

In her mind, she reasoned that Steve was more than capable of watching the movie on his own. Robin couldn’t pinpoint exactly why she wanted to keep your relationship with her a secret, especially from Steve. Part of her felt that if she didn’t tell anyone, you two could carve out your own life outside of stupid high school drama and small-town problems.

Unbeknownst to Robin, Steve couldn’t stand being shut out by his best friend. After a difficult childhood, Steve clung tightly to the few people in his life that he could trust. Though he knew it was wrong to assume anything, his heart shattered at the thought of losing the person closest to him.

Rationally speaking, Steve knew he wouldn’t be losing her. Robin was his best friend, and he knew he couldn’t keep her to himself. It was a selfish thought, believing that Robin would stay forever. Nothing lasts forever.

He clenched his jaw and nodded in acknowledgment. 

Steve observed Robin’s body language. She watched the clock, fixing small details of her appearance. Then, it clicked.

Robin was meeting up with someone. But who?

Robin met you at the high school. Initially, Robin would have never even considered glancing your way. After all, you were a cheerleader. She was under the assumption that all cheerleaders at Hawkins High would be egotistical freaks, but you changed her preconceptions.

“Shit, I’m so sorry. Robin, are you okay?” You frantically helped up the fallen girl currently sitting on the sidewalk outside of the school. Lost in a swirl of your own thoughts, you had practically tackled Robin while running to make the bus home.

“It-uh it’s fine. Wait-you know my name?” Robin dusted herself off gingerly, glancing at the uniformed cheerleader before her. She was surprised that you even recognized her name, she usually never associated with a cheerleader or any other sporty student.

“Of course I do! We were partners in History class last year, remember? I like your hair; it suits you.” You exclaimed, running your hands in your own. Though Robin suspected you might be saying those words to make her feel better, she couldn't hide the subtle blush that crept upon her face.

Now, seven months later, you two were practically inseparable.

The shrill ring of the phone jolted Robin into action, prompting her to swiftly pick it up. She held the receiver up to her ear, a ridiculously wide smile adorning her features. “Family Video, what can I do for you today? Oh, yeah I can arrange that.” Robin responded, her voice playful. A soft giggle escaped her lips.

Steve’s features read confusion as he watched the phone call unfold. Robin notoriously hated taking calls, always struggling to get the right words out. Out of the two of them, Steve was the best at talking to customers over the phone. Why was she suddenly responding without a single stutter or mumble?

“Who was that?” Steve attempted to grab the phone before Robin hung up but to no avail.

“A customer, who else would it be?” Robin shot a quick glare at Steve, a tinge of rudeness in her tone. Steve was taken aback by her comment. It hurt him to know that Robin felt like she needed to hide things from him.

“Robin, you know you can trust me, right? You can tell me anything.” Steve looked down at her, his face full of worry for his friend.

“For God’s sake! That’s enough, Steve! Can you please just accept that there are certain things that I don’t need to tell you?!” With that, Steve shut up in disbelief. 

Robin scoffed at the silence from her best friend, and she packed up her things. “My shift is over, I’ll see you tomorrow.” she declared, snatching her purse, throwing it over her shoulder, and exiting the store before Steve could even muster an apology.

Steve hadn’t intended for things to unravel like this. He was curious, but now that she was out the door after he pushed her too far, he felt horrible. As he packed up his stuff and turned off the lights in the video store, the sound of a car pulling up made him whip his head around.

To his surprise, a mysterious girl gestured for Robin to join her in the car, and before Steve could rush outside to apologize, Robin was already gone.

He groaned in frustration, guilt racking up on him as he closed up the store and headed to his car. 

“God, I feel so guilty, Y/n. I totally hurt his feelings when I snapped at him like that!” She sighed and watched the town flash by as you drove her. You put your hand on hers, calming her anxious ranting.

You eventually arrived at a restaurant situated well outside of Hawkins. Robin had insisted that the two of you couldn't be seen together in their hometown. It wasn't because she was ashamed of you—quite the contrary. Robin was protecting you from the close-minded individuals who populated the small town. You took a seat with her, observing her slump in her seat. 

It was eating her up inside.

“He’s just worried about you, he’ll be fine! Speaking of Steve, I’d like to meet him one day.” You smile at her and she shrugs. You were genuinely interested in getting to know Robin’s best friend, especially since she mentions him every time you talked to her.

“I really want you to, Y/n. I just don’t know if it would be smart to tell anyone!” Robin had her fair share of bullies in school, and she wanted to save you from that if she could help it. You were a cheerleader, there’d be no saving her reputation with all the potential homophobes at Hawkins High.

“Robin, we’ve talked about this! I don’t care about my status, I want you. I know you think that you’re protecting me but you don’t have to. I can handle myself, especially around your friend Steve. You make it sound like he’s going to want to fight me or something!” The two of you laughed. Robin watched you laugh loudly, your hand tightly wrapped around her’s under the table. 

She smiled to herself. You always had a way with words. You were truly an expert at calming her fears and giving her hope that one day, this town wouldn’t care about who she loved.

“I love you, you know that?” The words fell out of Robin’s mouth so smoothly, something she never thought she’d ever be able to say to anyone.

You smiled fondly at her and nodded. “Of course I do. I love you too.” 

Unbeknownst to either of you, a certain pair of eyes was watching from in his car. Steve had followed you, his emotions getting the best of him. He knew it was stupid to follow, but he wanted to see what Robin gave up a movie night for.

Steve carefully observed the two of you. He watched you both laugh at a joke you said, bouncing happy smiles off each other. He watched Robin show off her new haircut to you, watching the two of you talk with the biggest smiles and enthusiastic conversations.

He felt himself tear up, jealously over-taking his mind as he put the car in reverse and peeled out of the parking lot. The drive home was one of the longest rides of his life. For the first time in a while, he felt angry with Robin. As he gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white, he thought about what it all meant. Was he being replaced?

The next morning, Robin was late to work, scrambling in about 20 minutes late. Steve, however, had arrived early, wanting to busy his mind so he wouldn’t call Robin and confront her then. 

“You’re late.” Steve retorted, raising an eyebrow when she scoffed.

“As if you haven’t been late, Harrington.” Robin snapped.

“Not as a manager though.” Steve shrugged, cringing a little when he saw Robin’s shocked face in response to his statement. 

“What’s going on with y-”

“How was last night?” He leaned against the counter, a fake smile plastered across his face. “Have fun?”

“It was great, Steve. I caught up with-”

“You missed movie night.” Steve cleaned up the shelves, placing movies in their correct spot. He felt bad for being so rude to her, but if he didn’t get to the bottom of this he would never forget about it.

“Steve it was one night! I was busy!” Robin threw up her hands as she defended herself. She was right, Steve knew that. He wanted to confront her about her new friend, no matter what he had to say to her.

“No! You skipped movie night, you wouldn’t let me drive you home or to work, and you snapped at me when I was concerned about you! Tell me what’s going on!” Steve’s voice raised as he explained what Robin did. Perhaps he was blowing it all out of proportion. But if that’s what it took for Robin to confess that she was abandoning him, he’d do it.

“Steve you’re being fucking crazy right now.” She retorted, frustration in her voice. “I’m not dealing with this shit from you, can we just get back to work?” She shook her head and went to the back to avoid him to de-escalate the situation. However, Steve was not ready to give up on her.

“I’m crazy? Robin, you’ve been avoiding me!” Steve rolled his eyes when Robin scoffed.

“No! I’m-”

“You don’t have to keep fucking hiding it. You’re pulling away because you’ve found someone better. I don’t care, I really don’t. Just don’t pretend to be my fucking friend anymore, because I can’t take it.” Steve ranted, crossing his arms as he stood in front of her waiting for a bullshit response.

But it never came. Instead, she laughed at him.

Robin couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She assumed Steve was mad because she was skipping out on their daily activities. “You’re such a dumbass.” She laughed at Steve’s unamused expression. “You saw me last night, didn’t you?” Robin wasn’t mad that Steve had followed her to her date, but the whole situation made her laugh hysterically.

“Are you gonna keep laughing at me or are you gonna explain yourself?” Steve huffed, his face slightly red as he tried to lock away his anger.

“That was my girlfriend, dumbass. She came back from vacation and she wants to interview here.” Robin smirked when Steve’s jaw gaped.

“Ohhh! Why didn’t you tell me you were dating someone?!” He huffed in frustration. “Can I do the interview? I promise I won’t get personal.

[daffi-990]

Tease Tidbit Tuesday

Tagged by @thewolvesof1998 and @jamespearce9-1-1. Go check out what they shared, James wrote a whole fic!

Had some writing mojo for Rival Firefighters 🚒 and then I had a bit of a laugh because the chapter I’ve been struggling with is now the longest chapter of the fic so far 😅. Pretty sure I’ve finished it up too so fingers crossed the mojo flows with me to the next chapter I want to work on.

Here’s a lil something from what I wrote today … prev snippet here.

Buck has just pulled his shirt over his head and is closing his locker when Bobby walks into the locker room and stands with his hands in his pockets. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t have to, Buck knows why he’s here.

“Look, Bobby, it wasn’t my fault okay?” Buck turns to face his Captain, eyes emploring Bobby to believe him. He knows he’s been dumb and reckless in the past, but today wasn’t that and he needs Bobby to know that, to know that he has changed. “I could tell Diaz was in a-a mood and all I did was-was ask what was up with him and things just — escalated. You’ve got to believe me, Bobby. After everything that’s happened, I-I wouldn’t jeopardize my job by starting a fight with a fellow first responder.”

“I believe you, Buck.”

Relief washes over Buck like a wave. Having Bobby believe him, believe in him, well it means more to Buck than Bobby will ever know. Buck’s parents never showed any interest in him or what he did, the only thing they ever believed about him was that he was a screw up. They never outright said it to him, but he overheard enough hushed conversations that he got the message.

“And even if I didn’t, Captain Cooper called to inform me that Diaz came forward and explained the situation, taking full responsibility for starting the altercation.”

Buck didn’t know what he expected, but Diaz taking full responsibility was definitely not something he saw coming. It actually makes Buck feel a little bit guilty about the whole thing, because even though Diaz was the one who escalated things, Buck knows that he himself can push a little too far sometimes and it was probably his poking and prodding that set Diaz off.

“Diaz he — I think he was just having a bad shift.” Bobby raises his eyebrows in surprise of Buck coming to Diaz’s defense, which yeah, Buck’s a little surprised too. “He’s usually really professional and he shouldn’t get written up for snapping when I was pushing him to talk when he clearly didn’t want to.”

Bobby raises his hands in a placating gesture. “Buck, relax. Diaz didn’t get written up.”

“He didn’t?”

Bobby offers him a small smile, lowering his hands back down. “No. Captain Cooper explained the circumstances to me and I can’t divulge any information about it, but Diaz was indeed having a bad day.”

Buck’s shoulders slump in relief. Diaz can be a bit of a dick at times, but Buck is glad the guy didn’t get into trouble. It’s not like Diaz stole a fire engine for sex or anything. Buck smiles to himself, pleased that he can joke about that now, even if it’s just with himself in his head.

No pressure tagging: @hippolotamus @callmenewbie @wikiangela @lover-of-mine @athenagranted @steadfastsaturnsrings @watchyourbuck @exhuastedpigeon @rainbow-nerdss @wildlife4life @ladydorian05 @eddiebabygirldiaz @evcndiaz @the-likesofus @theotherbuckley @spotsandsocks @spagheddiediaz @devirnis @disasterbuckdiaz @giddyupbuck @fortheloveofbuddie @hoodie-buck @homerforsure @honestlydarkprincess @jesuisici33 @jeeyuns @loserdiaz @clusterbuck @captain-hen @monsterrae1 @malewifediaz @nmcggg @missmagooglie @try-set-me-on-fire @mellaithwen and anyone else who wants to join in the fun ☺️

[oldangryslytherin]

Could you write a fic where Harry goes back in time and instead of trying to kill Tom he seduces him, and they’re both obsessed with each other?

sorry it took so long, ill try and make a multichapter thing

-

The whispers started before the Sorting Hat even touched the first head.

The Knights of Walpurgis huddled together at the Slytherin table, their gazes sharp as they observed the new crop of first years filing into the Great Hall. The Sorting Ceremony always held some interest for them—it was a time to measure potential allies or assess potential threats. But tonight, their curiosity was heightened by a rumor.

“A transfer,” murmured Lestrange, his voice low.

“A Hogwarts rarity,” Rosier added, leaning forward with intrigue.

No one knew much about the supposed transfer student, only that he was arriving under unusual circumstances. The speculation ended when a figure trailed in after the last of the first years.

The chatter in the hall faltered. Heads turned.

Tom Riddle’s gaze shifted lazily toward the commotion, and for a moment, he thought he understood why even the Gryffindor table had grown quiet. The boy was scrawny, yes, but there was something unnerving about him. His neck was marked with faint scars, pale lines crisscrossing like relics of old battles, and his posture held the taut strength of someone used to fighting.

Tom’s seat didn’t give him the best vantage point, but he could see how the boy’s mere presence rippled through the hall. Some of the older girls whispered behind their hands, their faces pink with something between fascination and pity. A Ravenclaw prefect thwacked her giggling friend, both of them blushing as they stole glances.

Tom’s lip curled faintly, a mix of curiosity and disdain flickering in his chest. What’s so special about him?

The Sorting dragged on, the hat taking its time with the younger students. They scattered to their new homes like mice, squeaking and scurrying to the tables that welcomed them. The boy, however, stood at the back, waiting with unnerving patience.

Finally, his name was called.

“Peverell, Harry.”

Tom stiffened.

Peverell.

The name struck a chord, sending whispers coursing through the Knights around him. Tom glanced at his companions, noting the same spark of recognition lighting their eyes. His curiosity sharpened, his gaze snapping back to the boy as he approached the stool.

The Sorting Hat was slow to decide. It spoke in tones too quiet for anyone else to hear, and yet the delay only added to the tension. The boy sat there, unmoving, until the hat finally roared, “Slytherin!”

A collective sigh of relief rippled through the Slytherin table, the Knights relaxing back into their seats. Peverell stepped down, his expression unreadable as he moved toward them.

But then, he hesitated.

He was about to sit beside one of Tom’s least-favored housemates, a sneering boy who looked entirely too pleased with the prospect. Tom acted before he could think. Rising smoothly, he shot the boy a pointed glare, one that sent him slinking off to another spot with a scowl.

“Peverell,” Tom said, his voice smooth and unyielding. “Why don’t you join us here?”

The boy paused, his green eyes narrowing faintly as they flicked to Tom. He seemed to sense the shift in attention around him, the way the other Slytherins watched with bated breath.

Finally, a slow, deliberate smile spread across Harry’s face. He extended a hand. “Pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

Tom reached out, gripping the boy’s hand. The moment their palms met, a sharp jolt of electricity shot through him, like static but more deliberate. His fingers tightened slightly, but he masked his discomfort, meeting Harry’s gaze with calculated coolness.

Those eyes.

Tom was taken aback by their intensity. They weren’t just green—they were vivid, alive, like fresh leaves dappled with sunlight, or a shard of the Killing Curse itself. And yet, there was something dark lurking in them, something far older than the boy who bore them.

Harry sat down beside Tom, and the subtle press of his leg against Tom’s was impossible to ignore. Tom forced himself to focus, keeping his eyes on the rest of the table. But when he glanced at Malfoy, he saw the boy staring openly at Harry, his expression caught somewhere between fascination and unease.

Malfoy jolted when Harry turned his gaze on him, mischief dancing in his eyes.

Harry woke on a field of grass, bruised and broken. Blood oozed sluggishly from cuts on his arms and face, and his chest felt as though it had been crushed. He blinked against the sunlight, struggling to rise, when a shadow fell over him.

It wasn’t human.

The figure was cloaked in black, the fabric trailing along the ground like smoke. It loomed, skeletal hands clasping a scythe that gleamed like moonlight. Its face was obscured, but its eyes—green as poison—burned with an otherworldly light.

Death.

It spoke without words, its voice crawling into his mind. “You have a choice.”

Harry stared, his lips cracked and bleeding. “What choice?”

“To return,” Death said, its bony fingers extending. “To fix what's broken.”

Harry’s breathing hitched. “And if I don’t?”

“Then you remain.” Death gestured at the horizon, where shadows writhed and whispered.

Harry’s mind raced. He thought of Tom, of the countless lives that had been destroyed, of the future he could change. “If I kill him, will it end everything?”

Death tilted its head. “It will end him. But you may lose yourself.”

Harry frowned. “Then what?”

“There are other ways,” Death said cryptically.

The green eyes burned brighter as Death leaned closer. “Will you take this chance, Harry Peverell?”

Harry hesitated only a moment if it were only for the surname. His hands grip the wand, noticing the sudden light weight of the cloak over him, and on his finger the ring. He was tired. Tired from ruining, from fighting.

He could rest for a bit. Have fun.

And if it all became too much he could die.

Tom couldn’t stop glancing at him.

Peverell’s presence was a disruption, a crack in the carefully constructed hierarchy of the Slytherin table. His sun-kissed skin was a rarity in their world of pale complexions, and his lean frame carried a quiet strength that seemed almost casual.

Tom’s gaze trailed over him, unwilling yet drawn. The boy’s shirt clung slightly to his form, and Tom noted the faint curve of his collarbone, the shape of his neck where the scars marred it. His hands, though slender, bore the faint calluses of someone accustomed to hard work—or battle.

He realized, with a jolt, that Harry had caught him staring.

Those green eyes locked onto his, a glint of amusement flickering in their depths. Harry leaned slightly closer, his lips curling into a small, knowing smile.

“Something on your mind?” Harry asked, his voice low.

Tom straightened, masking his surprise. “Just considering the... unique company we’ve acquired.”

Harry chuckled, and Tom swore it echoed in his chest like a drumbeat.

The dormitory was dimly lit, the green and silver accents casting eerie reflections on the polished wood of the furniture. The room was spacious enough, yet it felt oppressive under the watchful gazes of his dormmates. Harry stepped inside, his trunk trailing behind him as his wand hovered it lazily off the ground.

“You’re over there,” Malfoy said, gesturing with a flick of his hand. His tone was sharp but edged with something less certain.

Harry followed the direction to find his bed nestled on one side of the room, flanked by Malfoy’s and Avery’s. Opposite them, the beds of Black and Lestrange stood, each marked by the boys standing with an aura of subtle superiority.

“Fetching,” Harry muttered under his breath, his tone dry as he surveyed the arrangement.

Malfoy stiffened, his pale face flushing. Harry ignored him, setting his trunk at the foot of his bed before pulling off his shirt. He heard the sharp intake of breath behind him, the almost imperceptible sound of someone holding it too long.

He didn’t turn. He knew what his back looked like—the scars, the burns, the remnants of things he would never discuss. They stretched across his skin like a map of past battles, a testament to survival more than strength.

As he changed into his sleeping clothes, pulling his trousers up with practiced indifference, he glanced back. They were all looking away, their postures stiff and their faces turned to their respective belongings.

“Where is Riddle?” he asked, his voice casual as he sat on the edge of his bed, his hands resting at his sides.

Avery glanced at him uneasily, as if reluctant to answer. “As Head Boy, he has his own private quarters,” he muttered.

“Good to know,” Harry replied, the corner of his mouth twitching upward.

Avery opened his mouth as if to question the response but thought better of it. Harry grabbed his toiletries and headed toward the bathroom, only to pause when Malfoy pointed toward a door.

“Through there,” the blond said stiffly.

Harry found the bathroom spacious and luxurious, with marble tiles and multiple stalls. He brushed his teeth quickly, his thoughts elsewhere. When finished, he pulled the collar of his shirt down slightly, inspecting the freshest wound on his shoulder—a long, angry line that hadn’t yet faded.

With practiced ease, he applied a salve, ignoring the sound of movement behind him. He didn’t bother looking; he already knew someone was watching.

When he finally adjusted his collar and glanced up at the mirror, he caught a glimpse of dark eyes disappearing around the corner.

The Great Hall buzzed with life the next morning, the low hum of conversation filling the air as students helped themselves to an impressive breakfast spread. Harry arrived later than most, his footsteps unhurried as he approached the Slytherin table.

The Knights of Walpurgis were already seated, their usual confidence exuding from their every motion. Tom Riddle sat at the center, commanding the attention of those around him without a word.

Harry walked straight to him.

Placing a hand lightly on Tom’s shoulder, he felt the boy stiffen beneath his touch. Tom turned sharply, irritation flashing across his face before his expression faltered. He blinked at Harry, his lips parting slightly.

“Could I sit?” Harry asked, his tone polite but faintly amused.

Tom hesitated, then gave a small nod.

Ignoring Avery’s glare, Harry slid into the seat between him and Riddle. The weight of their stares didn’t bother him; he was used to it. As he glanced over the spread of food, he yawned lazily and summoned a cup of coffee with a flick of his fingers. The cup floated toward him, landing softly as he added cream and sugar with wandless ease.

“Peverell,” Malfoy said, his voice tight. “Maybe don’t use magic like that.”

Harry raised an eyebrow, his spoon stirring the coffee on its own. “Why?”

Before Malfoy could answer, Lestrange leaned forward, his gaze sharp. “Dumbledore won’t like it,” he said with thinly veiled disdain.

Harry sipped his coffee, unfazed. “Why?”

Malfoy’s voice took on a haughty edge. “He doesn’t want the Mudbloods to feel... inadequate,” he said, choosing his words carefully. “It’s to avoid making them feel lesser.”

Harry’s laugh rang out, clear and bright, cutting through the tense silence.

“Inadequate?” he repeated, his eyes gleaming. “I had a friend once—a Muggle-born. She was the most brilliant witch I’ve ever met. Made plenty of pure-bloods fall behind in her dust.”

The room around them grew colder, the disapproval from his housemates palpable. Harry didn’t care. 

As he took another sip of coffee, his gaze drifted to the professors’ table. Albus Dumbledore was watching him intently, his piercing blue eyes locked onto Harry’s.

Harry smiled faintly, the shields in his mind holding firm as he felt the old man’s mental probes. For fun, he shoves back. Dumbledore’s expression sours before he looks away.

Satisfied, Harry turned back to his table just in time to catch Tom staring at him.

Their eyes met, and Harry chuckled softly. “Do you need something, Tom?” he asked, his voice smooth. “I’d be happy to help.”

Tom hesitated, his eyes narrowing as though trying to decipher some puzzle. But he didn’t respond. Instead, he turned his attention back to his plate, his expression unreadable.

Harry smirked, leaning back slightly as he stirred his coffee again. The spoon spun slowly, glinting in the morning light, as he considered the tangled web of games he was about to weave.

link bc tumblr is once again brken: https://archiveofourown.org/works/61961452/chapters/158442703

[annwrites24]

Organized by @dindjarindiaries for December 2024!

Pairing: Din Djarin x f!reader

Rating: M, but all my content and my blog are 18+ only

Word count: 349

Tags (All parts): fluff, some angst, developing relationship, mentions of loss of parents, second person POV, no use of y/n, hints of smut if you squint.

Day Twelve: Lights

You bought them at the market; yards of brightly coloured string lights, a rainbow of glittering bulbs chained together. You’d seen them hanging off every building on your last stop, and when the Mandalorian was distractedly shopping for something else, you stole away and asked one of the local merchants what they were and how to find them.

You learned they were part of a local mid-winter tradition, a way of lighting up the night against the lack of sun, a chance to bring colour to the world and fight off the grey of winter for a little longer. They weren’t expensive, and you bought several strands, already plotting where you might put them.

Now, as you carry them back to the Razor Crest, you tell yourself they are for Grogu, and it’s partially true. He will love the sparkling lights and find endless entertainment in changing the pattern and pace to find the one he likes the best. The lights will keep him happy the next time the two of you are locked down and waiting for the Mandalorian to return and make the ship feel a little more like home.

You put them up as soon as you got back, connecting the strands together and plugging them into the ship’s power. It’s difficult to find places to string them along the ceiling that won’t interfere with anything; once or twice, you think you’ve found the perfect place to hook one of the strands only to realize that it’s actually a switch for some system you dare not touch.

You finish just before the Mandalorian returns, and he steps into a hull filled with a rainbow of light. Every inch of his armour reflects the colours back around the room, and he stands frozen and twinkling and facing you while you wring your hands, praying he won’t be mad. You can’t read his reaction, but he looked beautiful, lit up like a galaxy as he approached where you stood. Tentatively, with a touch almost as ephemeral as the light around you, he squeezed your hand.

It looks nice.

Find my other fics on AO3! Header art by me. I do not give permission for any of my work, whole or in part, to be fed into any AI generative program under any circumstances.

[chaosandorder46]

The Wheel of Time Orpheus/Eurydice crack fic no one asked for. 🤭😂

Thanks to @lakeofsilverpike for letting me bounce some ideas around.

[justafandomfollower]

Next Five Fic Recs (#13)

All for Dead Boy Detectives this time around:

You make me glow by @cordelia-noir; a pre-canon to post-canon one-shot soulmate AU for Edwin/Charles. [T, No Archive Warnings Apply]

as the wind changed direction by @williamvapespeare; a snippet from an always alive at the same time AU of Charles and Edwin supporting each other. [G, No Archive Warnings Apply]

A blue cap and a red jacket by @williamvapespeare; a post-canon oneshot of the immediate aftermath (focusing on Charles and Edwin) of everything that went down in episode 8. [G, No Archive Warnings Apply]

Fic update: Chapter 8 (the epilogue) of what some circumstance stole by @catalists (Chrome); a post-canon crossover between Dead Boy Detectives and Sandman [T, Graphic Depictions of Violence]

Days by the Sea by makemeimmortalwithahug; a lovely post-canon soft one-shot of Edwin, Charles, Crystal, and Niko taking a short vacation [T, Creator Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings]

[halfblood-princes-crown]

If the boy had been conceived under any other circumstances, Walburga would have throttled Orion and ensured that his illegitimate child didn't go anywhere near her family, let alone her house.

But the boy's mom wasn't just a regular witch, or god forbid, a mudblood. No. Orion's side piece was none other than Eileen Prince, the last of her lineage, and one of the few people she considered a friend when she was young.

Of course she had to take the boy in. After all, he was a pureblood, and of fine breeding at that. Granted, he was conceived out of infidelity and raised as a muggle, but his blood was pure, unlike some other bastards that were born out of mudblood lovers. Really, this wasn't so bad. And if the boy grew close to them, who knew, maybe they could get a hold of the succulent Prince legacy.

Sirius was furious. Being replaced by his little brother is one thing, but being bested by Snivellus too? In his own house? He refused. Regulus was their mother's son too, so he could understand her affection. But how could she show any consideration for a boy that wasn't even hers? Worse, a boy that was the living reminder that Father cheated on her. With a woman that eloped with a muggle!

And still, not only Severus got the approval of his parents, but he also managed to get Regulus' admiration too. Snivellus stole his place not only as a brother, but also as a son. How dare he? He has no right. He's just a poor, dirty half-blood that everyone despises. And still...

(When he's told that Snape is his half brother, it all feels so fucking ironic he starts laughing right there. A sardonic, humourless laugh. Because of course he was. Somehow, the taste of defeat and not good enough were more intense than ever in his tongue)

See! This is exactly what I want out of this ship. This is perfect

Lovely.

Now I need a fic from either Sev or Sirius’ pov

Stat.

Also…succulent hehehehe that word makes me laugh idk why

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Hello! I just wanna say your writing is amazing, and I absolutely adore your tmc stories and writing overall it's so good!!!! I was wondering if I could get a continuation of the Adam x gn reader where they found him alongside Thatcher (maybe they drive him to somewhere safe like an inn/motel and care for him. Whether it be cuddling, reassurance, allowing him to vent. Bcuz they just don't mind him being an alternate. Regardless of what he is they care for him and want the best.) I need my boy to feel okay :(

Aw thanks! I'm surprised ya'll wanted continuations for not just one of my Adam fics, but TWO of them. It makes me happy though!

For this one, I imagine Reader finding out how truly difficult helping Adam is gonna be when he starts acting more like an Alternate, but it's a fight they refuse to give up on.

So enjoy <3

Read the first part/prequel here

..........

"Well..here we are. I told the lady we're staying several nights, but my credit card should cover it."

Opening the door to the motel room, you pocketed the key before heading inside to check things out, tossing some bags onto the table.

Adam, in the meantime, stood there awkwardly in the hallway. But after you called his name, he snapped out of his trance and entered--

Only to bump his head on the top of the doorframe and wince in pain, rubbing the spot where it hurt as he scowled at nothing specific.

After everything that's happened tonight, he forgot that his painful metamorphosis and splintering of bones made him a few inches taller...not that he considered it a plus in any way, shape, or form.

If the circumstances were different, he'd probably brag about it to everyone.

Fortunately you didn't notice his mishap, as you were making sure there weren't any TVs or mirrors in the room. Not just for your own safety, but also for Adam's sanity, too.

He couldn't stand seeing his reflection in anything; even the van's rearview mirror made him freak out when he accidentally looked at it, screeching uncontrollably and screwing up the radio's signal until you finally figured out what was wrong and covered it up.

That's the first and only time you nearly crashed the van, thank goodness.

The rest of the drive was uneventful until you found this rundown motel somewhere on the outskirts of Werksha County, deciding it's the safest place to lay low until you both figured out what to do next.

Of all things, you never expected one of your closest friends to be an Alternate--not one who recently killed him and stole his identity, but one who didn't even know what he was until this very night.

Apparently, the "Intruder" revealed that he had replaced his real counterpart at only 4 years old, his mom having been dead this entire time...and deciding that now was the time for him to 'awaken".

Though given how he was crying, screaming, and begging for death when you and Thatcher found him, it's obvious he didn't take that news very well and didn't want to be anything like them.

He lived as a human for so long..he was convinced that he is one and refused to accept his reality.

You couldn't bring yourself to hate him for something he had no control over, nor were you going to ever treat him like one of those monsters.

They were heartless and evil...and while Adam himself acted that way for the past several weeks, pushing away everyone who cared about him, you realized he regretted it deeply. Surely Alternates don't feel things like that.

Eventually you'll have to tell Sarah and Evelin the truth, and also find out where BPS goes from here.

But none of that was important right now.

Taking care of him was.

"Alright. Everything looks good...shit, even the beds look pretty decent. I'm surprised."

Blinking, Adam looked to see you plop down onto one of the beds, laying on your back. "You gotta come over here, man. I promise it's comfier than it looks."

After a bit of silence, you heard some shuffling noises and glanced at him as he limped over to the other bed. He sat down and shrugged off your BPS jacket, using it like a blanket before he curled up on the mattress, resting his head on the pillow and tucking his lanky limbs close to his chest.

In a way, he almost acted like a cat...which was kinda cute.

"Yeah I'm pretty tired, too. You need anything, Adam?" You asked.

All you got was a shake of his head in response, his eyes already closed.

'Right..we both need some sleep. I know he definitely does. We'll figure out some game plan in the morning, then..' You took off your shoes, leaving them on the floor before getting under the sheets and turning off the lamp light.

"Well..goodnight."

He mumbled something, but you assumed was also "goodnight" and eventually fell fast asleep..

Until your short-lived dream turned into a nightmare.

You found yourself standing alone in a dark void, hearing the muffled screams of your friend that sounded so close...and yet so far away. But no matter what, you couldn't find him anywhere, even as you ran and called out his name.

If anything, it felt like you were moving even further away.

Then you were halted by a figure descending from the sky--being that same mysterious angel statue you saw back in the van, except its face was covered by a black square. Its movements, however, were quite lively as it spoke to you in the same voice that claimed itself to be your "intuition".

It whispered that you could not save the "Mandela Prophet" from his destiny, even though what he did tonight was unexpected--implying that he was supposed to harm you.

But it vowed that his "disguise" will eventually shed itself..and when it does you won't be safe anymore.

You refused to believe it, instead asking what it wanted from you.

Its response?

"I want you to open your eyes"

Suddenly you woke up, heart pounding a mile a minute as you looked around the dark motel room. It took a moment to realize you were out of that horrible dream.

But then you ceased all movements as you noticed the time on the alarm clock displayed 3:33 AM in red neon....before seeing a skeletal figure sitting on the edge of your bed, uncomfortably close.

It stared down at you with white pupils rolling around in its eyes, its mouth hung open--stretching to biologically impossible proportions as it spoke in whispers you couldn't decipher, despite its mouth not moving at all.

"A-Adam? That you?"

You bravely turned on the lamp light, rubbing your eyes to see that it was indeed your friend watching over you. His mouth was back in its normal place...although you did see it wide open for a split second after light filled the room before he closed it immediately.

It did give you a mini heart attack, forgetting he was capable of something like that, though you tried acting like you never saw it at all.

"S-Sorry..I didn't mean to wake you up." He apologized, clearing his throat. "I...couldn't sleep. Fuck, how can I?"

"It's alright. I don't think I can either." Sighing, you sat up and smiled reassuringly at him. "We've been through a lot of shit tonight, and-"

"You need to kill me."

Your smile faded as you stared at him, confused when he shoved one of his pillows against your torso. It had stuffing torn out of it, the case covered in blood and saliva.

"What the--?!" You blinked, looking down in horror. "Adam, is this your bl-?!!"

"I tried it and it didn't fucking work...s-so I need you to do it for me. Please." He begged. "I've tried everything else!!"

'Is he...asking me to smother him..? Was he...actually screaming earlier?' Your heart sunk into your stomach at the realization he tried killing himself while you were sleeping, but you shook your head.

"Adam we're not having this conversation again. I can't do that to you, okay? It's not going to work, and even if it did...I just...I can't. If you think I'm okay with straight-up murdering you-"

"Just do it, [y/n]...I-I don't care how long it takes. I don't want to be your burden anymore. I just...I want this to END!!!" He panicked, growing frustrated that you weren't taking the pillow as he now kneeled in front of you, hands trembling. "I'm one of those sick fucks that took your family away! So get revenge! KILL ME!!!"

"But you're not." Your gaze softened, resting your hands over his own. "You didn't kill them. You're my friend-"

"How can you see THIS as a friend-d-d?!!" He wailed, tearing himself away from you as coarse static began to overlay his voice. "This "friend" hurt so many people...Jonah...a-and Evelin...and it's going to hurt you too if you don't stop me!! PLEASE JUST FUCKING END MY SUFFERING-G-G!!!

You desperately tried to calm him down, afraid that someone in the neighboring rooms would hear all of his screaming and howling.

But he didn't stop.

"Shhh! Adam-! Adam, please just-!!"

"STOP IT!! DON'T CALL ME THAT!!! THAT'S NOT MY NAME!! IT WAS NEVER MY NAME!! I lied to you...I DECIEVED you, and you were too stupid to realize it.."

"...h-huh?" You froze, bewildered as his face suddenly became devoid of all emotion, staring dead at your confused expression.

"You stopped that cop from putting a bullet in my head." Tears began streaming down his bony cheeks, his jaw going slack as he spoke. "You're so selfish. You're a coward. Don't you see how horrible you are..keeping me around?! You think I can be saved?! You're only making me SUFFER, [y/n], and it's all your fault!"

You were shocked at the things he was saying to you, wondering if the last of his humanity had finally slipped away...and this is all that remained now.

"A-Adam, please stop-"

"PLEASE STOP! PLEASE STOP! PLEASE STOP! PLEASE STOP!" He began to mimic your voice to near-perfection, hearing hysterical laughter coming from him despite his expression not matching it at all.

You could tell from his eyes alone that he wasn't in total control over himself. He wasn't doing this on purpose.

It was those Alternate instincts trying to override him, attempting to submit you to the symptoms of M.A.D.

Begging him to be quiet was no longer working. You had to try something else...something that would catch him off-guard.

And you finally figured it out.

Taking the pillow, you tossed it aside before gently pulling Adam into your arms, once again being careful not to crush any of his fragile bones. Almost immediately his laughter stopped, his whole body seizing up.

Without the jacket you've previously given him, you could feel how extremely skinny he was, his vertebrae almost poking through his flesh. But it didn't stop you from wrapping your arm around his back, petting his hair soothingly with your other hand.

"...what are you doing-g?" He asked, his voice muffled by your shoulder. "Don't touch me! I-I'm...I will....!"

"You'll what?"

"......."

From the way his entire form gradually went slack in your arms, you realized he was (somewhat) back to his old self, and smiled. "See? You're not hurting me now, and you didn't before. I still trust you, Adam."

He didn't do anything for a few long moments, but just when you were about to let him go, he suddenly hugged you back and fully buried his face into your shoulder, sobbing.

"I'm so sorry, I-I didn't mean to...! I'm sorry, I'm sorry..!!"

"It's okay. I know you didn't mean any of it." You consoled, allowing him to pull you closer to him. As much as he tried, he could barely crush you..considering he had little strength left. "It's okay, we're both okay."

He just shook his head, still devastated that he tried giving you M.A.D and couldn't stop himself. "Th-This is why I wanted you to leave me..b-before I say stupid shit like that and hurt you...."

"C'mon, you've said a lot of "stupid shit" over the years. It's gonna take more than that to drive me away." As you rubbed his bare back, you could feel him nuzzling into your shirt more, desperate for warmth that his own body no longer provided him.

"I-It's so cold. I'm scared, [y/n]...I'm scared of myself." He choked. "None of this feels...real."

"I know. I...can't even imagine what's been going through your head tonight. But you're still my friend, and nothing's gonna change that. Not even this, alright?"

After a few moments of silence he nodded, sniffling. "I'm sorry for putting all of this on you. But....if you have to kill me-"

"Adam."

"R-Right, right...I'm sorry. I won't bring it up again.."

"....we'll figure out something else, okay? And I'll be here for you. Just like always."

Although Adam didn't verbally respond to that, he let go of you and laid down beside you, indicating he wanted to at least attempt to sleep. You were surprised that he didn't just return to his own bed, but you weren't going to be a dick and kick him off.

So you gave him most of the sheets and blankets, knowing he needed them far more than you did. He only mumbled a small "thank you" before turning his back to you, now tucked under the blanket.

You got under the covers as well, switching off the light again, but you heard him still crying softly into the pillow and groaning in pain, clearly trying to hide it from you.

It hurts that you couldn't take away his pain.

The one thing you could do, however, was comfort him..now knowing he wasn't going to push you away like he did before. So you gently put your arm around him, closing some of the space between you two while not being too constricting.

And while he didn't stop crying right away, he eventually quieted down and fell asleep with one less worry on his mind.

You hoped it wasn't too weird--just something to reassure him that you're gonna be right here when he awakened.

It did the trick.

You weren't going to leave him.

Not anytime soon.

[brandwhorestarscream]

(Continuing off of the “sparklings are illegal”conversation)

Hmm, maybe instead of Earth, they flee to other colonies or planets for safety kind of like what you said? Earth was just the first one that popped into my head last night, and because I do like human-cybertronian interaction in some circumstances. But I completely understand not liking it at all and respect your preferences :)

Adding onto your idea that some cybertronians are unable to flee the planet, maybe they decide the brave the planets wilderness instead (if there is any in this scenario). I’ve always loved the idea of cybertronian wilderness being incredibly dangerous (which is canon is some continuities) and for this reason the majority of the population, even soldiers, avoid it like the plague.

Maybe some cybertronians decide to take the risk and venture out into the wilderness in order to protect their sparklings. And form their own little societies out there?

Kinda stole this idea from a fic series I read, tbh. Where some cybertronians decided to continue living in the wilderness rather than in the cities, and have their own tribes 🤔

Oooooh some good old fashioned "barbarian" -esque fic, eh?? Yeah im down

The ones that couldnt leave the planet when sparklings were declared illegal ran away. Many of them were slave castes or otherwise extremelt impoverished: running away is punishable with death if you're caught, but theyre all willing to take the risk. Much better than just sitting around waiting foe the government to take their babies to be euthanized

They flee into the wilds, some family groups striking out on their own, some forming bands of a couple dozen people. Disappearing into the jungles, the ravines, the crystal swamps, carving our niches for themselves deep in the wilderness, learning to work with the untamed part of the planet, some living off the land if their environment will let them cultivate energon crystals, some hunting mechanimals for fuel or drinking from geysers.

Perhaps in the distant future, someone will stumble upon a little village deep in the jungles of Polyhex, mecha living in treehouses, with the majority of the citizens never having seen another person outside of rheir family. As time goes on, the settlements grow, viciously protecting their sparklings and living in hiding as well as they can 🤭