#i ... So Terribly Want to diverge from canon so if u are down?? we could write the 'ilse gets thru to moritz' scene we all crave and deserve

[gallavichfanficlibrary]

✨2021 Favorites✨

Hi guys :) It’s almost 2022, so we decided to repeat last year and make a list of our personal favorites (which will vary from mod to mod) that started and completed in 2021 💝 There’s no way we could include everything we loved or even liked from our favorite authors, but hopefully you find something to jump into! ❄️ (This is a long list, but blame the writers for being so talented!)

Multi chapters:

Old Rules For New Side Pieces - Ian thinks he’s got his life together -- good job, stable boyfriend -- until he meets Mickey and his life is turned upside down. 

Enemy Lines - Enemies to lovers, a social justice warrior vs a lawyer.

Someone To Hold Me Up - Canon divergent from s7 - Ian and Mickey getting back together with their lives a little bit more put together. 

Under Lock and Key - Ian and Mickey man the desk of the missing keys office together and end up falling for each other week after week. 

weaver of fate (to your will I won’t fold) - Soulmates AU. Mickey is a seer who gets paid to track down people's soulmates. Ian pays for the reading but doesn’t want to know the result.

you’ll never see us again - Ian and Mickey grow up in a boarding school without a clue about what their future holds.

The Mask of Insanity - Ian’s a detective with a complicated past with Mickey, who ends up being a suspect in a murder case he’s working. 

Mickey Milkovich’s Guide to Flirting - How Mickey Milkovich learned to stop worrying (so much) and flirt with his crush

There Are Places You Belong - Ian and Mickey adjust to the West Side and grow closer in their second year of marriage.

WIPs:

Dancing After Death - Ian moves to California and meets Mickey, a member of a motorcycle club. Friends with benefits to lovers. 

That ‘Redhead Babyface/FUCK U-UP’ Duality - AU. Ian sees Mickey in a bar and decides that he’s the perfect candidate for shooting porn together.

Intro to Quantum Dating - College AU. Friends with benefits to lovers. Ian moves to campus and meets Mickey, the RA and the weed guy of the college. 

Paragraphs - Ian has an opportunity to be a reading tutor for ex-convicts. He meets one in particular that catches his eye.

since we’re alone - College AU. Enemies to lovers. Mickey is only going to college to play hockey. When he’s at risk of losing his full ride scholarship because of his slipping grades, he gets assigned a tutor.

let the bodies do the talkin’ - Mickey’s on a quest to find a good fuck and he doesn’t think Ian could do anything for him, but boy is he wrong...

You Can Bite Me - Ian’s a vampire and is drawn to the mysterious Mickey, of course things get complicated. 

Ristretto - Coffeeshop AU. Ian works the late shift at the coffee shop with Mandy Milkovich. He might or might not have the hots for her boyfriend.

elevator music - Ian makes a terrible first impression on his neighbor Mickey, but gets to redeem himself little by little.

Apartment 4A - When the chaos of the Gallagher home gets to be too much, Ian decides to move out. He answers a roommate ad, and gets more than he bargained for.

kings of the southside - S11 canon divergent fic in which Ian and Mickey stay on the southside and take over the Alibi.

We Are Made of Star Stuff - S1 gap-filler, Ian POV. Exploration of how the boys reach the level of closeness that has Ian running to Mickey's when Monica shows up.

One shots:

Stages - Post S11. It’s nice for married couples to share interests and experiences. But they didn’t really need their dads to die one after the other like this.

Bad for Business - Magic AU. Mickey works at a magic shop and Ian happens to be a frequent customer. 

Thicker than Forget -  Fantasy AU. Ian is a poet. Mickey is his recently-corporal muse. They eat an absurd amount of stupidly named ice cream, try to find beauty in things, and fall hopelessly in love.

the moment when a memory aches - A rewrite of the HOS episode filled with feelings, angst, and growth. 

Gotta Get You Into My Life - 2x04 fill in. Where exactly was Ian when Fiona came home to find Holly Herkimer storming out of the slumber party

Sweet Lips On My Lips - 3x05 fill-in/fix-it. mickey experiences new things after kissing ian for the first time.

Nobody makes me crazy like you (ambivalent) - Post S11.Mickey puts their neighbor in her place and won’t apologize for it and Ian learns a valuable lesson about compromising.

Risks Not Worth Taking - 11x06 fill-in. Ian worries over Mickey's involvement in the Born Free robbery.

put my faith in this hole in the ground - Ian experiences his first manic episode after being married to Mickey. 

golden hour - 5 times Mickey admires Ian's freckles, +1 time Ian admires his

submission sonata - Ian and Mickey spend some time together after the Alibi serenade. 

Muse - Ian slowly, but surely working his way into interior designer Mickey’s heart. 

Old Wounds - The time between Mickey finding out Ian’s going to prison and their reunion.

What Became of the Likely Lads? - 11x06 fill-in. How did Lip ask Mickey to help him steal bikes, why did Mickey bring donuts in the morning, and other questions answered.

nothing to worry about - Ian gets jealous and they settle it in familiar ways.

lit up - Ian and Mickey spending some quality time together in their very own place. 

The Ghosts of 218 - The journey to Mickey getting ready to be a dad. 

he wants to fucking tear you apart (series) - Ian discovers reddit porn, in particular user going by u/aleksandr.

soft, sensitive - Some short, soft one-shots ranging in topics.

And just in case, here are the links to last year’s lists:

X X

Happy reading! 📖💕

[vampyr-game]

As someone who admittedly was getting a bit of tired of seeing Sean Hampton getting woobified and turned into "soff uwu sub boy" in fanworks, I am absolutely living for your post about Sean Hampton topping. Thank you so much

bro yes, what the hell, I love u. he's sassy! he's bold! he's his own advocate! he's a capable man single-handedly running a homeless shelter for YEARS, who is very opinionated about government incompetence! he has a strong sense of justice, even if he feels beatifically obligated to forgive everyone who's ever wronged him without maybe addressing his own feelings on the matter... but just because everybody disrespects his boundaries doesn't mean he doesn't know how to SET them.

I think part of the difficulty of getting Sean to top (or shipping him at all) is that he's a workaholic with a troubled relationship with sex, so he's not likely to pursue a relationship of his own volition, and that necessarily situates him to be the recipient of such advances. in such a scenario, it may seem like a foregone conclusion that the one who is pursued is NOT dominant in the relationship... but I think Sean would benefit from a divergence from traditional relationship roles like top/bottom. we have to get creative if we want to restore agency to our boy!

(This got long and delves a little into similar hurdles faced when writing SeanReid AND GeoffReid, so I'm putting it below a cut lol)

as an example -- of the SeanReid fics I've enjoyed, several make it a point to assure the reader that No Mesmerism Was Employed Nor Maker/Progeny Bond Exploited To Facilitate These Sexual Relations.

but... what if that WERE the case? then Sean would feel wronged, and he would be right to feel wronged, and he would be in a position to demand restitution (😏) or apologies from Jonathan. let Sean get pissed! let it be Jonathan's fault! maybe Jonathan, newborn Ekon, accidentally puts his private desires in Sean's head, and Sean's status as a Skal enthralled to him compels him to meet Jonathan's needs! Sean would be pissed! but what's funny is he would probably know more about this than Jonathan, on account of his years-long acquaintance with Bridget and the Sewer Skals (honestly every character should know way more about Jonathan's capabilities than Jonathan. and I think that's very sexy of them to know him/his body better than himself. anyway.) meanwhile Jonathan would feel terrible and contrite, and perhaps try to compromise with the sex act that would be the LEAST objectionable to Sean. which could be Sean topping! though there's also a case to be made that Sean refuses to hurt Jonathan and insists on receiving (tho maybe he could ride Jon, that could be a good compromise...) -- you could honestly play that a lot of ways! all of which bring Sean's agency a little more forward into the relationship.

honestly, I love Extra Good (Even Gooder Than Canon!) Good Boy Jonathan Reid, but I've started to notice he creates something of a magnetic morality field when left unattended: everyone around him who doesn't wholeheartedly trust him seems ridiculous against his infallible kindness, and there's little room for them to do more than be worn down over the course of a fic and capitulate, in their own way.

everyone plays the kneeling scene a little differently, but a Jonathan who is nothing but guilty/regretful/contrite/apologetic gives Sean little room to be angry or standoffish, so Sean is rendered mostly passive. interestingly, Good Jonathan also creates this problem in GeoffReid -- if Jonathan is a perfect faultless angel, then that goes COMPLETELY against Geoffrey's worldview. as a matter of existential preservation, he'll rail against it and refuse to trust it, and Jonathan is left to chase after Geoffrey's coattails begging and pleading for his acknowledgment. it's hard to characterize Geoffrey as anything but a cornered animal, or a blind and stubborn thug, when Jonathan is so committed to defying his expectations -- but if you START with a Dark Roast Reid, for example, Geoffrey's worldview isn't being challenged every time he looks at this guy -- it's being VALIDATED, and it's a problem he knows how to solve. and then who knows, seducing the demi-god leech could be a form of damage control, and a way for Geoffrey to establish dominance. I imagine he doesn't relish the thought of being dragged into emotional honesty by a leech, but bringing a leech to heel is just part of his job description.

So, making Jonathan a little bit of an asshole gives the characters around him opportunities to hold him responsible, and his willingness to BE held accountable to them gives them agency. imo this is accomplished beautifully in scoriasoil's Catch Me When You Can -- it's WaverReid, and Jonathan's a bit more of a pedantic asshole than we tend to get in fic, and I just find that so refreshing,

THAT SAID I'm still very much interested in writing Glutton For Punishment Jonathan and Surprisingly Into This Sean Hampton. someday. I will put a star sticker on it just for you anon, thank you for joining hands with me in appreciation of Sean Hampton's agency 🤝

[mallowstep]

📖 (foxstride)

ask thingy

@foxstride

okay i mentioned this to you on discord but i didn't go into it but. okay. okay. the au where mistyfoot is hawk, moth, and tadpole's mother. this has been just. it's been chewing on my brain and i don't know when i'm going to write it so since u gave me a blank canvas, i'm going to ramble about it for as long as i can.

cw: implied/referenced sexual assault; brief suicidal ideation; standard tigerclan content (abuse, child abuse, starvation, dehumanization, etc.); referenced force feeding

okay oh my gosh okay. this has. so obviously i've been thinking about riverclan lately. a lot. it's rcam. anyway. i don't want. i'm trying to get to the point and not loop around aimlessly for two hundred words but okay but okay. anyway.

i've been thinking of all the different ways i can deeply traumatize misty, storm, and feather. and maybe stone. maybe i'll let stone live at some point. that'd be fun.

right so i've been thinking of that and my ideas are all over the place. i'm going to let primrosepaw live at some point. at one point i'm going to have stormpaw, and maybe primrosepaw or reedpaw (and...what's the other one? is it perchpaw or pikepaw? whatever) the point is i'll have some collection of stormpaw and some or all of mistyfoot's kits escape but not misty and feather so we can do survivor's guilt and.

anyway so i was writing the excerpt for the primrosepaw is definitely there au (it's kind of not Tethered because most of these aren't mutually incompatible like that au could be any of the others), and tigerstar has that dialogue about kits yeah?

so when i was writing it, i was thinking about just. he's trying to dehumanize all of them, right? that's his goal with that line. he's separating mistyfoot from her kits, trying to erase the meaning of their relationships. that's like. that's what i was considering when i was writing it.

buuuuuuut. y'know. my brain is chewing on it. and it just. hm. Hm. what if. what If tadpole, moth, and hawk were misty and tiger kits. hm. hmm. hm.

and so i am just instantly. very on board with this. there's so much potential.

so i Think the point of canon divergence is the rescue attempt. i haven't decided if stormpaw is successfully rescued or not. featherpaw doesn't for reasons i'm circling around to, but stormpaw may or may not. it certainly Matters in a broad sense but i haven't made up my mind, and i doubt i'm going to write Multiple aus about this. i mean i might u never know but it'd b like writing an alternate stolag: i mean i suppose i Could but it would feel weird.

okay almost burnt my dinner i said i'm very this has just been slowly rotting my brain out. i like Angst and it's been a while since i've written any.

okay there was fmtws but really that got me started. i'm not a fluff person. and y'all know that by now.

so Back On Topic. so Anyway after the rescue attempt fails/partially fails, tigerstar takes his anger out at the apprentices being Alive on featherpaw and she gets to. uh. help tigerclan practice fighting.

"Let me see her," Mudfur hissed. "No," Tigerstar said. "I've told you." Mudfur growled. Featherpaw dragged herself to her feet, and Mistyfoot glanced back at her. They would leave they would leave they would leave and then she could lie down again and try not to think. "You're not my leader," Mudfur said, and Featherpaw winced. Mistyfoot could see what was going on, but she was sitting still as a stone. Mudfur pressed into their — Mudfur pressed in, laying a wrapped bundle at Mistyfoot's feet. "Let me—" "No," Mistyfoot said. "Just go." Mudfur dipped his head. Tigerstar's steps moved away from them, but the shouts and arguments surrounding Mudfur were just buzzing noise in Featherpaw's head. She made out, "She's going to die," and she thought, that wouldn't be the worst thing.

thank You featherpaw. you will suffer for the au as a whole. anyway this takes place...i'm not Quite sure but mistyfoot does have a reason for not letting mudfur in. and that reason is she is in Denial about being pregnant.

if mudfur comes in he'll know (i have not forgotten that cats can smell unlike the erins), and mistyfoot is acting in denial. altho she rationalizes it to herself as being for mudfur's protection: runningnose is a medicine cat too, and so tigerstar could off mudfur without much effort.

(also i tend to mix up mudfur and mudclaw sometimes understand i am talking about the riverclan medicine cat, not the windclan deputy. i just mistype them sometimes.)

anyway so she has a legitimate reason (mudfur's continual survival, which is better for her and featherpaw longterm), and she does not want mudfur to know.

yeah.

all in all, this happens before the great battle. mistyfoot fights in it (again, denial), featherpaw and stormpaw are reunited (yes i think i made up my mind), (wait maybe stonefur lives too, and then both pairs of siblings reconnect, and stonefur is like "oh Shit" and. okay yes. maybe. i don't know.)

(there's a Lot. ohh maybe. wait best of both worlds okay. mistyfoot Thinks stonefur is dead. but stonefur doesn't get a proper burial but at the same time riverclan is Not going to go for their deputy on bonepile and even if they do go for it, they're not going to stripe his bones nor are they going to let a Physical Cat Corpse rot in camp. so when firestar and greystripe rescue stormpaw, stormpaw Insists they go back for his body, and then they realize he's Alive but obviously mistyfoot doesn't know.)

(there then i get the Best of both worlds. and stonefur and feathertail are in the Chronic Pain club.)

(also the thing w/ fighting is also what happens in "someday when the world is much brighter". not that Particular scene or in that Particular way, but it does happen. i mean almost exactly in that particular way. but that scene is from a different fic.)

anyway okay moving on i did add too much chili powder to my dinner but that's fine i'm still not over when someone refused to give me more harissa because "it's spicy" like yes i know i guarantee my mom makes it spicier.

back on topic sorry. i've been writing this as i do other things bc i have so much to say about this and i don't want to wait for tomorrow to share this because it's been just Rotting away my brain.

anyway so siblings reunite. it's...terse. it's complicated.

there's some parallels going on right? like because both featherpaw and stormpaw are basically in the mindset of looking after their mentors (which mistyfoot and stonefur feel Terrible about), everyone has survivor's guilt (i don't know what to call like, survivor's guilt when it's not actually survivor's guilt so if someone has a correct word please let me know) except for Maybe featherpaw.

featherpaw might be the Only one here who doesn't have survivor's guilt. i don't really want to explore the one way she could end up with it. that's past my comfort level at the moment.

but stormpaw and mistyfoot are the most physically healthy, and stormpaw and stonefur escaped.

stormpaw: i have not been hurt by this in any way

everyone around stormpaw: you have definitely been hurt by this

stormpaw: i have not been hurt by this in any way

stormpaw and featherpaw become warriors, leopardstar makes mistyfoot deputy (because stonefur is still recovering and also no longer wants the position. mistyfoot doesn't either but she's in denial and she doesn't want anyone else to have it. mistyfoot is visibly pregnant and still kind of in denial at this point. like it's been at least a moon and she is refusing to talk about it.)

right so i think stormpaw's name is going to be stormheart because i don't know it was always weird to me that stormfur and stonefur have the same suffix. like given Everything that's going on it feels weird to me. ig it'd actually be less weird in this, given that stonefur is still alive, but do you know How Close stonefur and stormfur are. they're one consonant cluster off. they're One consonant cluster off.

so leopardstar names him stormheart. feathertail can keep her name because it's pretty.

mistyfoot is a moon away from kitting. she refuses to talk about it. to anyone. whatsoever.

feathertail and stonefur decide to stage an intervention.

(they leave stormheart out not because he's not part of the found family, but because mistyfoot literally will not tolerate a single word about this. like a single word. like she will growl at you if you look at her stomach for too long.

so given the fairly high odds that mistyfoot gets violent, they keep stormheart out of it. she's the least likely to attack stonefur and feathertail.

stormheart finds out about this later and is like "do you guys realize if this went south you had absolutely 0 control over the situation. like what are you guys going to do. you incapable of doing anything to stop her if something goes wrong."

feathertail is like "yes. that's the point."

feathertail is both kind of right and also very internally messed up from being used for "training" when she wasn't allowed to fight back. feathertail also hates if you call her by just her prefix. she does not tell anyone this. misty is aware of this, and she tells stone and storm, and riverclan does eventually figure it out. plus it's not like feathertail is close enough to anyone else for them to call her "feather".

okay i'm getting off topic sorry i've been working on a tpb thing for swtwimb, and the one scene i have is cats making fun of her for not fighting back (again she is not allowed to they might kill her if she does), so they call her "featherkit" and that eventually gets brought down to feather and i'm rambling anyway On topic again.)

so stonefur and feathertail are like. "mistyfoot you are like. a half moon away from kitting. it is impairing your ability to do warrior duties. you need to like. acknowledge this."

anyway after a very terse conversation. after a veeery terse conversation, where mistyfoot is like. very close to just absolutely abandoning riverclan. they get her to admit that yes she is pregnant and yes she needs to stop doing warrior duties for the moment.

she wasn't exactly Healthy when she was pregnant because even tho tigerstar made a Point of making her like. eat enough to be healthy and also not violently attacking her. she had still been starved for...idk long enough for her ribs to show. i'm not sure what the exact timeline on this is yet.

also then After Tigerclan she did not eat as much as she should have because (a) denial and (b) she had been forcefed and so now she's. not doing that.

oh wow i've written long enough for my grammar checker to turn off again. that hasn't happened in ages.

all bets are off from here on out re grammar and spelling.

okay so mistyfoot isn't going to move into the nursery. i believe mosspelt has had a litter of 3 kits, or will have one as we see in asir, but mistyfoot isn't. she's not moving into it. stone, misty, storm, and feathertail share a den. no one else is allowed into it for Any Reason.

so anyway, they expand the den. riverclan as a whole might? i'm not sure who's good at weaving bc i don't have headcanons for this time period. probably not feathertail, but possibly stonefur. hm. anyway, they expand the den, mistyfoot will raise the kits in this den, everyone is on board with this.

mostly because it's this or mistyfoot like. runs away. which obviously no one wants. riverclan is on the side of...the four? riverclan is on the side of the four. even if they're not like, even though the four don't trust them, feathertail and misty especially (stone and storm tolerate it much better). but even tho things are complicated, riverclan is certainly going to do actions. they're certainly going to try to demonstrate their support.

okay so mistyfoot gives birth to her kits, and she is. not feeling good. about it. she's feeling terrible about it actually. she's feeling terrible about things. she doesn't want to name them.

usuuually in this situation, after the queens (collective) decided its in the best interest of the kits to be raised by someone other than their birth mother, the kits would be given to another queen.

but see. feathertail, stonefur, and stormheart are All attatched to these kits. deeply attatched to them. and mistyfoot is not willing to give them up either.

so mistyfoot isn't willing to give them up to another riverclan queen, and feathertail, stone, and storm all Want to raise them, and also don't want to give them to another queen.

the queens confer with mudfur that it is absolutely the worst possible thing they could do to forcibly remove the kits from mistyfoot. like that is the Worst option. they'd be lucky to get the kits alive, feathertail and mistyfoot are likely to abandon riverclan, and if misty and feathertail abandon riverclan, stone and storm will follow.

they're stuck in a standstill for a while. the four eventually do name them hawkkit, mothkit, and tadpolekit. the kits are about a moon old and ready to be weaned. mistyfoot is still extremely tense about the affair, but she's willing to part with them. she's able to recognize that's in the best interest of the kits, mosspelt's litter is about the same age, moving them into the nursery is going to give them a more normal upbringing, everyone is on the same page.

feathertail, who's having a lot of self worth issues, decides that moving into the nursery is her best bet for clan usefulness (which (a) feathertail you cannot keep up with kits and (b) the whole Place she's in is bad to begin with), moves in with them.

the kits decide feathertail is their mother now (they're old enough to understand that she didn't give birth to them, altho i haven't decided if they remember misty as their mother and if they're told any information re their birth parents depends exactly What kind of angst i want to write), and feathertail is. okay with this.

unlike asir, she's not blindsided with the tigerstar-is-their-father reveal, so she does have some issues with hawkkit reminding her of tigerstar, he's not really her Big Bad Trauma Nightmares. she has way more issues with the riverclan warriors directly involved in her abuse.

anyway, i don't know what happens tnp era stuff. i haven't gotten that far yet. maybe this will be another au where hawk and/or moth is a prophecy cat. i'm not sure. i haven't gotten farther than this.

but here you go i started writing this like an hour and a half ago and while i did stop to eat, i also just finally put everything i have for this au on one page and i hope and pray that will stave off the brainrot until i have a chance to actually write it.

[kae-karo]

ika ya - genshin fic

hi i got my heart broken by a tweet (x) earlier today and wrote this so u can all cry too :)

ika ya - T - 1.4k

tags: angst, self-hatred, introspection, babie kaeya, canon divergence

--

His father sends him to the Ragnvindr doorstep to fulfill his duty as a spy for Khaenri'ah, a duty he is less sure by the moment that he would actually like to fulfill. These people aren't...they aren't bad, not like he's been told.

[read on ao3]

--

They told stories about the sky, back in Khaenri’ah, but he doesn’t think they were right. Must’ve been fairytales, he thinks, pretty lies told to those who dreamed of dreaming. The sky above him is gray and dark and struck through with flashes of lightning that startle him each time they strike. A sky that rains down on him relentlessly, leaves him cold and soaked and shivering. He wraps his arms around his middle, takes unsteady steps toward the glowing light in the distance.

You are our last hope, his father said. He doesn’t know what hope that could possibly be, if there is even any hope left. Why it has to be him, why he has to walk in this horrible rain for angry people who talk about destroying this world.

If they’re so bad up here, if the people are as evil as his father and the others say, they’ll just turn him away, won’t they? Or maybe attack him. Kill him, like they did to all of his ancestors. Like they’ve done to anyone who turned, anyone who became something inhuman.

If they’re evil, he will not stand a chance. Still, his hand drifts low to his hip, presses against the hilt of the dagger he’s owned since he was old enough to hold it. Maybe he can take some of these evil people down with him, if they try to hurt him.

His stomach twists at the idea of that, though, so he focuses instead on the biting cold of the rain, the bright glow of the building his father directed him toward. If he is successful, if they do not try to kill him, he can help Khaenri’ah.

The rhythmic squelch of his feet on mud and waterlogged grass becomes background noise to the rain and thunder, and he glances over as he passes rows of vines lined up like soldiers. He’s heard about soldiers from up here, but not so much about these vines. He can’t watch them for too long, though - in the dark, they become enemies, they hold weapons in their twisting hands that reflect the lightning and make him stumble to the side, away from their sharp edges.

His back smacks into something hard, something-

He sucks in a breath, lurches away with a shout drowned in a rumble of thunder. But it is not a sword that poked into his back, only the arm of a structure of wood that holds the vines aloft. His heart hammers, fast gasps of breath barely audible for how loudly his blood rushes through his ears, how loudly the thunder rumbles around him, and he does not linger near these not-soldiers.

His feet slip on wet grass as he rushes toward the building, squints against the too-bright light and scrambles for the front door. He knocks fast and loud, again and again until his knuckles hurt, but his heart still does not calm. Every strike of lightning, every roll of thunder sets it racing again, makes fear crawl up his throat like some terrible beast that lives inside him.

How do his people become monsters again? From fear? No, no, not fear, he is not becoming one of those things. He is himself, he’s still himself.

The door swings in.

“Who- oh.”

He sucks in a sharp breath, stares at the boy across from him. Bright hair like fire, eyes just as lively. The boy stares back, tips his head a little.

“Who is it, son?” Someone else, somewhere else. He startles, and the boy’s eyes go wide.

“Oh, don’t worry, that’s just papa.” The boy’s voice is gentle, calming.

How does the boy know that fear runs so rampantly through his veins? Hands clench in fists at his sides, and the boy smiles. He smiles. It’s…warm. He breathes shallow breaths, watches the boy’s face.

These are the evil people who would kill him?

“Diluc- oh, well hello there, young man!” He stumbles back at the voice, new and louder and most certainly not belonging to the boy. A man rounds the corner, then, and steps into view of the doorway. Same fire-red hair, same warm smile. He crouches down. “You look cold, would you like to come inside for a bit and dry off?”

This is...this is what’s supposed to happen, right? He is supposed to go along with this, stay here and become a spy for Khaenri’ah. Help them win when they come to destroy this place.

“I think he’s afraid of us, papa,” the boy says quietly as he tugs at his father’s sleeve. Afraid? Yes, of course he’s afraid, he’s supposed to be afraid, isn’t he? These people are...they’re evil, terrible. They would destroy him.

The man smiles at him, and he looks sad.

“Well, of course he is. We are strangers, after all.” Now, he holds out a hand. “My name is Crepus. And what can I call you?”

A name? Of course he has a name. A Khaenri’ahn name. They must...they must not know that he is from Khaenri’ah. If they did, they would hurt him. They’d kill him, just like his father and all the others say they will. They must not know.

“It’s okay,” the boy says, now, and he steps forward. His father pulls his hand back, rests it on his knee.

The very base instinct in his chest says to run, to go find his own father and go home. Away from here, from these people who-

Who are being nice to him. Who are offering him a place to stay the night, to dry off and warm up. Run away from the boy who smiles at him, who tips his head. Who does not make him want to run away.

“My name is Diluc,” the boy says. He does not ask for a name, though. Just stands there and smiles, and it makes his heart flip around in his chest. “We won’t hurt you, I promise.” Quiet, careful. Like Diluc can see straight into his brain, knows exactly why he doesn’t want to speak.

I don’t want to hurt you either. He does not think that saying that aloud is a good idea. They don’t expect him to hurt them.

“You don’t have to tell us your name if you don’t want to,” Diluc says, still smiling. A hopeful kind of smile, he thinks, and he wants- he wants to say something. He wants it to stay there, that smile. Wants to be the reason for it, instead of being who he is. What he is.

Diluc holds out a hand, but it is not the way that Crepus did. Not like a greeting, more like an invitation.

“Please come inside? You’ll catch cold out here.” Diluc glances down at his hand, then back up. Why does he have to be-

Why does he have to be so nice? Isn’t he supposed to be evil? Isn’t he supposed to attack? But he’s kind instead, they both are. It hurts more, so much more. His stomach twists in knots so tightly that he feels sick.

“You’re shivering…” Diluc’s voice is so quiet, so worried, and for him? He is not worth their worry, not when he’s- when he’s-

“Ika ya,” he grits out, feels his teeth chatter with the words they would not ever begin to understand, and he barely holds back the sob that tears up his throat. I’m a bad person, he says in his own language. Don’t trust me, don’t care about me, don’t take me in. I will only bring destruction in the wake of your kindness.

“Kaeya?” Diluc says, and he tips his head. “Is that your name?”

He blinks back tears that well up in his eyes, replaced suddenly with surprise - it’s a butchering of his language, to hear it said on Diluc’s tongue, but it’s not wrong. Of course it isn’t.

So he nods, and his heart shatters at the way Diluc’s smile lights up.

“Kaeya.” It sounds like a blessing, in his voice. “It’s good to meet you. Will you come inside?” His hand stays extended.

With a sharp breath, he buries himself deep in his own chest: a grave for the Khaenri’ahn boy, his people’s last hope. He is a bad person, he is the worst kind of person, both to this new world and to Khaenri’ah. He will not forget that, will never let himself forget that.

And so, he takes Diluc’s hand, and takes the name ‘Kaeya’, and condemns himself to a life of lies shrouded in veils of truth.

[playedwright]

deancas + 11 and/or 30 👀

gene my beloved anything for u❣️

set in the canon divergence au vaguely in my head where the winchesters find out about cas's deal shortly after it's been made

11. “Is that blood?”

Dean glances up and scowls when he catches Cas's eyes already on him. It's a stupid question considering their line of work, and the answer's made more obvious by the way Dean's in the middle of wrapping his palm with gauze and by the bloody knife he'd used to open the skin still lying next to the bowl. Dean's smart enough to know it'll just piss both of them off more if he points that out, so he keeps his thoughts to himself.

Cas, though, of-fucking-course, doesn't share the same qualms. His mouth sets into a thin line as he peers down into the bowl where Dean's blood is patiently waiting to be joined by the other ingredients of the spell—blood from two beings who had set foot in every other realm, the bone of an ancient demon, a handful of dirt pulled from holy ground, and the object of an empty memory. Something that once meant everything and now means nothing. The bowl's empty except for the scant amount Dean had bled, though it won't be for long. When Sam comes back they'll have everything they need to finish the spell and break Cas's damn deal once and for all.

Pointlessly, Cas announces, "I still think this is a terrible idea."

"Yeah, y'know, Cas, you've already made your opinion perfectly clear," Dean mutters. He can feel it when Cas looks back to him again, staring at the hand Dean's just finished wrapping and frowning at the cut as though it's personally wronged him. Hell, maybe it has. They both know that Cas could heal it up with an easy wave of his hand but he's too stubborn to offer. And Dean is too stubborn to ask. "You realize how hypocritical it is for you to do this? Sit there telling me n' Sam that you'll break any deals we make then act all high and mighty when we try to do the same for you. The Empty can't have you again, man. Not yet."

"It's a matter of worth, Dean," Cas says, patient like a saint, and Dean just gets angry all over again. "And I've exceeded mine. You and Sam still have value to share—"

"That's bullshit, Cas, c'mon—!"

"—Jack still has value to share. My life for his, my life for yours or for Sam's... It's an easy call. And with me the score will be settled. It's me the Empty wants. Summoning it here won't change anything."

How many times have they found themselves here before? Standing close enough that the distance still between them almost feels frivolous but far enough from one another that it's easy to wonder if they'll ever reach the same fixed point. Dean holds his breath; Cas forces his out. An impasse that neither side truly wants to win.

Dean looks away first. "Yeah, well," he says. To Cas, to the room at large, to God or anyone else listening. "Guess it's a good thing we aren't summoning the Empty to negotiate, then. We're summoning it to kill it."

send me a number from a drabble list

[tired-elf-witch]

No worries at all, I contracted that damn Covid virus so I know how you feel! 😷

Please, take care of yourself and heal soon! 🤗

Absolutely, your answer totally make sense and thank you for your time and commitment in writing it! 💕

I have always seen Lucius as a sadist tbh, so it fits so well even in sex life. For avoid possible spoilers, I continue below!

I loved your take on my "what if?" question because perfectly reflects how I imagine Lucius!

In reality I don't imagine this for your story or in general, mine was just a curiosity because (what a coincidence!) my idea of Draco is just the one you have in mind for your fanfiction.

Draco could be arrogant and bratty, but in my opinion he is "sexually modest". Even because of the high standards of his parents, I imagine him avoiding too explicit avances and sex in general, so to stay pure until you don't find someone "worthy". Lucius but especially Narcissa spoiled him and treated him as someone special and rare, so I figure him thinking something like "I don't want to ruin my reputation doing dirty stuffs and disappoint my parents too."

I notice how often Draco is written as a wild and libertine in fanfiction (that is totally ok, everyone could write what they like!) but I imagine him as a virgin, totally. Of course, until things happen ;)

Aaaand psss, if you want to share something else about your ideas, I'm more than happy to read them! 👀 Of course, within certain limits, no pressures! 🙋‍♀️

I will wait otherwise to read the new chapters 😊

damn, i wrote an entire response and tumblr deleted it. this is what i get for writing it on tumblr mobile browser. thank u for your patience in waiting for an answer, its been a bit hard writing this week <3

that is horrible to hear about you catching covid D: , i really wish you well!! i hope that it doesnt leave terrible lasting effects. my own sickness has gotten better, but now i am dealing with prolonging my cold since i am not good at dealing with the cold of winter 😵

i am glad to have been of help with your “what if”! it was incredibly fun to think about, and it did help stretch my thinking muscles with things considering lucius/draco. depending on how you go about the ship, there are endless possibilities, and your scenario was very enjoyable!!

and considering draco- i would like to say that i agree wholeheartedly!! i will admit, i love the wild draco headcanons and aus. i am big on having contradictory headcanons, and i personally enjoy it when draco does it in a “fuck you” to the family at least, when canon divergence is HEAVY. but, at the end of the day, and deep down in my heart, i will always see draco as a “prude” and very modest when it comes to sex- all of the points you have brought up are on the same line as my own!

there are so many layers to it and i love it all!!! from the pure blooded upbringing of his childhood, which i think we can agree is deeply rooted in old-fashioned ways, many of which look down upon heavily on what is seen as whoreish behaviour and as such heavily discourages sleeping around and making a whore of yourself. to the way his parents had made him think about yourself- the way you said of his parents teaching him he needs someone “worthy” to sleep with, since he is special and important. i have a love for narcissist!draco, and so ending up thinking about himself like “i am better than all others, and as such only someone who is close to my level is worthy of being bedded by me/bedding me” kind of deal. its ah!! so great!!

if i ever have any tid bits id be willing to share, i will gladly do so ;) until then youve got to hold on!!! hope you will enjoy the story as i go on and reveal my plans >:)

[andessence]

‘ i see how you labor beneath that load: afraid to look up, and afraid to let go. ’ from ilse for moritz!

hadestown starters

Ilse’s gaze on her seems the HEAVIEST LOAD she’s ever borne. She can’t meet it, though the flickering of her eyes to her childhood friend suggests that she’s trying desperately. It suggests that she doesn’t want Ilse to see that she’s RIGHT.

She doesn’t need this new torture, ultimately nothing more than the newest burr catching her as she makes the feverish break for freedom — for  P E A C E .  The world scrapes and grasps at her more violently now that she realizes how to escape it, as if it hated her for discovering the secret that NONE OF IT MATTERS. All an illusion! All the noxious fumes, refuse of the æther swirling into twisted, cruel forms that mock the SUBLIMITY beyond them from which they came! She was going to break the chains at last and find that higher form. She just had to shake off this burr.

“Ilse, you don’t see anything. You don’t know the first thing about—! You’ve been with the artists too long, and sound like them; everything has deeper meaning; everything sounds profound.” She wants to draw the words up sharp and fatal, but her tongue is thick and her mouth dry. The retort is dull, DEAD already as it falls from her lips. “But it isn’t always. Sometimes a look is just a look. ——— It’s getting dark. You should go home.”

[crossbows-and-moonshine]

Lunacy Fringe (Chapter 1)

Edited Author note; I wrote the bit below when I started this. This fic was actually the first Daryl multi chap fic I started to write, but by chapter 10 I got new ideas and bounced around. I figured I’d come back to it now and try to finish it off. So this one was started way before Flames. 

Also, I didn't have a face claim when I wrote it. I picked one after since I wanted to make a header. I didn't even make a connection with the names until after I made it loool

---

So this started as a one shot Daryl x reader I wrote years ago. I posted it on my tumblr where I took Daryl requests and on Ao3.

If you’re new around here, hi! :’) This will be canon divergent, those of you who have read my other things before know that I haaaaate to just rewrite series or films, it bores me to read and to write. So yes, as usual this will be canon divergent. It’s set before the whole Negan thing. It’s edited so if any of you have me on tumblr or Ao3, this first chapter which is the one shot is a little different, please don't skip it, even if you’ve read the original. I altered quite a bit to fit the story and my new OC.

This is a dark story, mainly at the start, and it will have various triggers; Rape, abuse, self harm, suicidal thoughts.

Disclaimer; I own nothing but my OC’s and original ideas. This isn’t a Walking dead fanfic, it’s a Daryl fanfic, and as I said, canon divergent. So some things might happen from the show in different orders etc just to fit whatever I’m doing, but the story is mainly about Daryl and my OC.

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

Communicating and trading with other groups was vital now for survival. The different groups didn’t always see eye to eye, but it was business and it was just the way the world was now. Rick had been introduced to a new group via Hilltop and the leader Frank had asked them to come for an ‘introductory dinner’ to get to know them. They couldn’t all leave Alexandria for safety reasons so Rick decided he was taking Daryl. His brother in arms, his right hand and the one he knew without a shadow of a doubt he could trust. Daryl was just as perceptive as he was, he could read people well and Rick wanted to get a feel of this new group. To see if they would be trouble or not.

When they arrived, it shocked them to find the camp seemed to be all men. They were loud and obnoxious and the Alexandrians instantly didn’t like them, but business was business so they’d suck it up to help their group. The two men studied each person they met carefully. Despite the fact this was for trading, they never knew what would happen and they always wanted to be prepared. Daryl was pretty astute at reading people, and these people seemed off to him. There was something he didn’t like, like his sixth sense was tingling and telling him something wasn't quite right. It put him on edge, something Rick picked up on.

They were gathered at a large table in the dining hall when they first saw her. She stuck out like a sore thumb. Not just because she was the only woman in the entire group, but she was covered in bruises. Clearly visible in the tattered short dress she was wearing. The marks stood out in stark contrast to her pale skin, the skin mottled and bruised in blooms of purple and yellow. Some were old but some were very very new. She was bringing the food in and one of the other men smacked her ass so hard she dropped the tray of food. The clattering as it hit the floor seemed to bring a silence over the group as it echoed. Rick and Daryl didn’t like it one bit. Tensing and sitting up a little straighter. They watched the scene unfold, but they had no idea it was about to get worse. Frank jumped up from his seat and stomped towards her terrified small frame. It was clear she rarely got to eat.

“Are you fucking stupid bitch?! Clean that shit up now!” he yelled as he grabbed her roughly and pushed her to the floor to clean up the food.

“I-I’m sorry,” she choked out as her knees painfully hit the hard floor. She knew what was coming.

She hated life, recently she contemplated just ending it, maybe even in a way that would make her turn and eat these fuckers alive. Things weren’t always like this. Her brother used to be in the group but last year he died, and Frank decided to make her the camp’s personal slave as she was the only woman and now had no one to protect her.

She scooped the food up back on the tray and stood up, the plate was chattering against the tray as she was trembling terribly. Frank had been drinking which always made him worse and he was trying to show off to the new guys. He grabbed her by her long dark hair which made her yelp in pain. Her cheeks flaming out of sheer embarrassment and shame as he pushed her towards Rick and Daryl with a smirk. Rick looked stoic, trying to look neutral, but Daryl couldn't help the glare he was giving as his nostrils flared, not being able to hide the fact he wanted to gut this motherfucker and hang him with his own entrails for treating her that way. The girl was small next to the large man, it was hardly a fair fight, she had tears trailing down her face as her chest heaved, trying to contain herself. She hated crying in front of Frank and his men.

“What should we do with this bitch?” he slurred slightly, thinking that Rick and Daryl were just like him and his men. Like this was a normal thing to do with someone. Her eyes stayed on the floor, not daring to look at anyone. Daryl was staring at her, willing her to look up and meet his eyes, but she never did.

“Let ‘er go,” Daryl growled and he bristled in his seat as his glare turned back to Frank. Rick and Daryl had watched in horror at how she was treated. In Daryl's mind, there was nothing worse than a woman and child beater. Frank just laughed at him, mocking him.

“Look fellas, we have a couple of pussies here. Thinks we ain’t treating the lady right,” he smirked as he looked around the room at the other men who seemed to enjoy the humiliation of the girl. He let go of her hair and smacked her in the face with a sickening force, knocking her off her feet. Daryl went to pounce on him but Rick grabbed his arm and looked at him. They could often communicate through looks rather than words and Daryl knew exactly what Rick was trying to say; Not yet brother.

Daryl was fighting with every fiber of his being, he wanted to knock Frank on his ass and get her out of there but he knew it would cause more trouble jumping in head first, he needed a plan, he needed to talk to Rick. There was a storm brewing inside of the fierce man, a deep need to protect the poor girl from more harm. He’d failed a lot of people in his life, but he wasn't about to just leave this place, leave the girl, just to get abused this way. He almost felt like it was his shot at redemption, to help her and make up for at least some of the shit he had done.

“I think we’ve all just had a little too much to drink, why don’t you show us our room for the night?” Rick asked politely, plastering on a fake grin for Frank’s expense. He knew he had to be diplomatic about this, his years of being a sheriff coming into play.

“Alright then! Zoey, show them the room, get them settled in!” he barked at her. She scrambled up off the floor and walked passed the new men with red cheeks.

“She’s in the next room if you need anything, if you catch my drift,” Frank grinned wickedly at the men before he wandered off back to sit down. Daryl's chest was heaving as he tried to keep his composure, Rick's hand on his shoulder tight as if it was grounding him from just losing it on the man. They gladly stood up and followed after the poor girl.

She was avoiding looking at them at all costs. Something inside Daryl was pulling him to her. It wasn’t just the fact it wasn’t right how she was treated, it was more. He had an animal instinct to protect her. Get her away from these assholes, but even keep her by his side at Alexandria. He wanted her all to himself, and he didn’t quite understand why. He’d never felt anything like this before. It was a primal need inside of him that wouldn't settle.

He hated how skittish she was, flinching at the slightest noise, never looking at them in the eye. She led them to a room and showed them inside. She still wouldn’t look at them despite Daryl's eyes burning holes into her skin. He really wanted her to look at him, to see he wanted to help her. She didn’t need to be scared of him. She started to make her way to the door and gasped as Rick grabbed her wrist on the way out. He let go as if he burnt her and looked at her apologetically for scaring her.

“I just wanted to thank you. I’m Rick and this is Daryl,” he explained softly, in a soothing manner like he was talking to a frightened child. She just nodded at him, not meeting his eyes as her gaze stayed on the floor below her.

“How d’ya end up with these pricks?” Daryl asked with a frown, not able to contain himself any longer. She shifted her weight anxiously. She just wanted to retreat into the safety of her own small room, hide and hope she never had to emerge.

“I…um…m-my brother... d-died last year. So Frank… u-utilised me,” she stammered nervously, still not looking them in the eye and anxiously wringing her hands. For all she knew they were just like all the other men that came from other places. The men that Frank would send into her room and let them do as they pleased with her.

“That assholes been usin’ ya and treatin’ ya like shit for a whole fuckin’ year?” Daryl seethed, he was struggling to keep a lid on his temper. This whole thing was wrong and when he couldn't deal with his emotions or understand them, it only fuelled the anger in his veins. Rick put a reassuring hand on his shoulder to try to reign him back in.

“Why the fuck ain’t ya try to escape girl?” he asked harshly. He didn’t mean to direct his anger at her but it was too much to deal with. The thought of what she’d been through for that long made his blood boil. The two men could only imagine what they had done to her. Rick wanted her out of here as much as Daryl, he was just much better at reigning himself in and dealing with things. Rick looked at Daryl, he reminded him of the angry redneck he had met all those years ago, when Merle was left on the roof.

She clenched her jaw as she felt the shame and anger sweep through her entire body at his accusing words. She snapped, feeling like he was blaming her for what she was going through. In the heat of the moment she lifted her dress up revealing the brand she was left with, her eyes burning with tears.

“Next time they’ll kill me,” she spat through her tears. Rick and Daryl looked on horrified. There on her stomach was the name ‘Frank’ carved into her skin in large letters. The scars jagged and deep, the skin flamed red on her usually alabaster skin. Forever branded by that monster as a reminder of who owned her. She let go of the fabric, letting it fall down and cover her once more. A vacant look clouded her eyes, something that Rick didn’t fail to notice. He knew that look from people with trauma he had dealt with before. A way of coping.

“Ya should come back with us,” Daryl said after a tense moment of silence, his voice a lot softer than before. He felt the guilt inside of him swell from directing his anger at her. The image of the savage brand didn’t seem to want to dislodge itself from his brain. He had his own brutal scars, but he felt they paled in comparison to what he’d just witnessed.

She scoffed darkly, knowing Frank had his hooks into her and he had no intention of letting her go. She would die in here, and she hoped it was sooner rather than later. She shook her head and left the room quickly. She had no hope of getting out of here alive, she’d resigned herself to that fact and she was just working up the courage to take her own life to be free of these monsters.

Back in the room Daryl was pacing and biting his thumb while Rick sat on his bed.

“We gotta do somethin’ Rick, I ain’t leavin’ ‘er with these pricks, ain’t right,” he scowled anxiously.

“I know, we need to get her out of here. I was thinking, we leave tonight. Take her and go, it's dark so we can try to get her in the car without being seen. They’re outnumbered where our groups concerned, so if they try to bring a fight to us, they’ll lose,” Rick explained. Daryl nodded his head and they started to hash out the details of the plan.

Later that night she was startled awake by someone coming into her room, it was dark but she could make out the dark figure coming across the room. She scrambled up to the wall on the pile of blankets on the floor where she slept and pushed herself into the corner of the room, fear pulsing through her veins. If it was Frank or one of his men it would only end one way.

“Hey, s’alright, s’just me,” a familiar southern drawl cut through the air. Her eyes finally adjusted as Daryl crouched on the floor holding his hand out to her hesitantly, like he was afraid she would just bolt like a skittish animal. Her reaction of him coming into her room only made his heart ache, confirming the thoughts that he and Rick had shared about what these men had been doing to her.

“We’re gon’ get ya outta here,” he explained softly. She sat still for a moment before her eyes actually met his for the first time. She looked confused and scared. Daryl fought the urge to look away from her piercing gaze, the intensity was making him feel weird. But he didn’t, he kept his eyes on her, determined to make her see he was serious and she had no reason to be scared of him.

She grabbed his hand carefully and allowed him to help her off the floor. She took a deep inhale as she squeezed his hand tightly. A simple gesture but it made Daryl's heart flutter a little. She refused to let it go as she just stood there in front of him with her eyes closed, like she was taking comfort and strength from him by holding his hand. He watched her carefully and gently squeezed it back. It felt natural to him, being the one to comfort her. He wanted to be the only one to comfort her. He wasn’t one for touching, even holding someone's hand. But this girl he had just met, this broken girl needed him. And it awoke something inside of him he didn't even realise was there.

“Thank you,” she whispered through tears as she clutched hold of his hand. She felt a strange comfort in being so close to him despite all she had been through. His scent was soothing to her and she didn't want to let him go.

“Ain’t nothin’. Ya gon’ be safe with us,” with me, he added on the end in his head as he soaked in their close proximity. He was enjoying it a lot, much to his surprise. He found himself wanting to hold her hand more. It was as though he was getting as much comfort from her as she was from him. A need for physical contact he didn't know he had and had always denied from others.

After she got herself together and let go of his hand, much to his dismay. Daryl helped her pack the few clothes she had while briefing her on the plan, then she followed him outside. Daryl and Rick were fast and vigilant, making sure no one saw her as they got her in the car. She couldn’t believe it as they left and started on their way to Alexandria. She sat staring out the window in mild shock. Was she really free? Was she really safe? Before she knew it, she was crying, she was happy, she hadn’t felt like this in years. Daryl spun around from the passenger seat with a worried look on his face as he looked at her.

“S’wrong?” he asked concerned. She gave him a watery smile and wiped her tears.

“I’m free,” was all she managed to choke out. Daryl smiled at her and shared a look with Rick. They felt good about saving her. Daryl had a deep sense of pride, and he knew he was going to have her stick by his side once they got home. He wanted to keep her safe. When she reached Alexandria she was impressed, it was much nicer than with those assholes. It was still dark when she got there but from what she could see, it was perfect.

Taglist; @risingphoenix761 @daryldixonandfrogs @arlaina28 @divadinag @keeperofwonderlandus @jodiereedus22 @easnuppa @fand0m-fiend @txladyj-blog @walkingdead-dixon

[ilusionis]

THE POSITIVE & NEGATIVE; Mun & Muse - Meme.

fill out & repost ♥ this meme definitely favors canons more, but I hope OC’s still can make it somehow work with their own lore, and lil’ fandom of friends & mutuals. multi-muses pick the muse you are the most invested in atm.

my muse is:   canon / oc / au / canon-divergent / fandomless 

Is your character popular in the fandom?  YES / NO.

Is your character considered hot™ in the fandom?  YES / NO / IDK.

Is your character considered strong in the fandom?  YES / NO / IDK.

Are they underrated?  YES / NO.

Were they relevant for the main story?  YES / NO.

Were they relevant for the main character?  YES / NO / THEY’RE THE PROTAG.

Are they widely known in their world?  YES / NO.

How’s their reputation?  GOOD / BAD / NEUTRAL.

how strictly do you follow canon?  — closely, especially if we’re referring to general outline of Bleach lore and making my headcanons / metas fit in its scheme. i follow canon events but I’m not opposed to exploring aus (i have a few in mind that i definitely wanna write down);  i try to stay true to aizen’s personality and psychology at the best of my capabilities, but all of us are bound to look at a character through our own distorted lenses,  so i’ve kinda made peace with the fact that my interpretation of him might have strayed from his original portrayal by the author.  still, i hope whatever i add of mine contributes to enriching aizen as a character, rather than just twisting him into a fan version. i am only adamant about all my stuff fitting in and making sense to the complex landscape of the bleach universe, and yes, i can be strict about that.

SELL YOUR MUSE ! aka try to list everything, which makes your muse interesting in your opinion to make them spicy for your mutuals.  —  oh worm? aizen is a visionary. he makes you see the things no one would notice, makes you doubt what you’d otherwise take as granted, makes you (the reader, but also the character he interacts with) reconsider every truth.  he provides conflict and mystery, which are the core of adventure, and he’s a multi-layered, polymorphic character you never stop learning about and from. aizen, as a character, takes and takes - but he also has the potential to give endlessly. i realize this is a weird rambling but i could fill essays on why aizen is spicy ... i mean, sometimes bleach does fit into the dystopic genre, and aizen is the key to understanding most dynamics of the bleach universe. if you rp a bleach character, especially, it comes without saying interacting with aizen is always a good chance at character development.

now the OPPOSITE, list everything why your muse could not be so interesting (even if you may not agree, what does the fandom perhaps think?).  —  i’m biased but i don’t think aizen is ever uninteresting.  if anything, sometimes interactions can feel stagnant because he’s extremely secretive, and also because he’s on a wildly different level than most ... idk, lieutenant-level (or lower) muses around.  it’s not just strength that can act as a barrier, though; disinterest on either ends of an interaction can be a tough obstacle. aizen doesn’t really make small-talk, interacting with him requires commitment.

what inspired you to rp your muse?  —  i don’t really remember anymore. i started bleach because i was curious to learn more about aizen, and the love for this character made me appreciate the overall story even at the first quick read. strictly talking about rp, i guess it was just the curiousity to explore and understand him better? plus an old friend of mine enabled me lol.

what keeps your inspiration going?  —  i’ve only recently returned after a long hiatus and i was surprised to find myself so full of energy to pour into this character. i wouldn’t know how to explain it tbh? he’s a tiring muse, but one that fills me with pride. that’s a good reason to keep going. also, i love the bleach universe, i love to extrapolate themes from it and aizen is one of the richest characters it has to offer, one of the most complex and complete. my biggest inspiration is the aizen himself, looking at him from all possible angles and perspectives, finding literary / musical / other media references to get an always better grasp on him. 

some more personal questions for the mun.

give your mutuals some insight about the way you are in some matters, which could lead them to get more comfortable with you or perhaps not.

Do you think you give your character justice?  YES / NO.

Do you frequently write headcanons?  YES / NO.

Do you sometimes write drabbles?  YES / NO.  (i gotta change this tbh, i got one brewing)

Do you think a lot about your Muse during the day?  YES / NO.

Are you confident in your portrayal?   YES / NO.

Are you confident in your writing?  YES / NO.

Are you a sensitive person?  YES / NO.

do you accept criticism well about your portrayal?  —  i guess it depends on the wording; it takes nothing to be mindful and polite, and if you are, i definitely won’t mind the criticism. expect it to rouse a conversation, though, i’m quite rooted in my portrayal and what i feel is my understanding of aizen’s character by now, and i need the criticism to be in-depth. 

do you like questions, which help you explore your character?  —  absolutely! i might be slow with them because i don’t like half-assing my answers, but i dearly appreciate every question i’m sent. 

if someone disagrees to a headcanon of yours, do you want to know why?  —  i crave feedback on my headcanons / metas, positive or negative. if you disagree, tell me why! i might have made a mistake and you might be saving my life, or still it could prompt an interesting confrontation, make us both notice new stuff, etc. if by the end of it we still disagree, good. 

if someone disagrees with your portrayal, how would you take it?  —  peace. i’m always open to discuss disagreements, but if they really don’t like my interpretation, i’m sure there’s plenty of fish in the sea 😌

if someone really hates your character, how do you take it?  —  i’m protective of aizen, don’t hate him or get ready to throw fists, ao. 

are you okay with people pointing out your grammatical errors?  —  prepositions are my recurring nightmare. sometimes i post replies without thoroughly proofreading them and you might spot grammatical errors or typos; please point them out or fix them for me. especially if u spot a recurring error. 

do you think you are easy going as a mun?   —  i am, i’m chill, but i can strike as somewhat distant, not gonna lie. i’m terrible at smalltalk because i’m not super inclined to disclose stuff about my private life unless we’re friends or i feel really comfortable doing so. i’m slow, somewhat careless, and i like my boundaries respected. that said, i consider myself friendly and i’m game to talk about anything as long as you give me a topic. i don’t think i come off as intimidating??? unless we talking about food. 

That’s about it, congrats for filling out!

Tagged by:  @skyvar​ i don’t know you but you seem nice! :D Tagging: 🤏🤏🤏

[olderjustneverwiser]

Tell Me All the Ways to Love You (Sam Winchester)

Well, I finally finished my first Supernatural fic. I’m season 11 into my Supernatural rewatch, and watching ten seasons of Sammy Winchester has made me fall in love with him again, and this is the product of that. This is based off of this list, ‘100 Ways to Love You.’ As always, huge thanks to @moresvuheadcanons for all of her help!

Word count: 5016 (go big or go home, am I right?)

Warning: So much fluff, angst, probable overuse of commas, some canon divergence.

Happy reading and enjoy!

o n e

You shivered as you, Sam, and Dean made your way through the old cemetery on the outskirts of some small town, looking for the grave of a man whose ghost had been wreaking havoc for the past few days.

With every step you took, you cursed yourself and your choice of clothing for the day. It had been a beautiful day; sunny and breezy, just like you like it. So you decided to dress light, opting for only jeans, boots, and a tee while you spent the better part of the day posing as beat reporters with Dean; Sam opting to go to the local library and do research. You had forgotten that the temperature tends to drop once the sun starts to set in this particular part of the country, though. Which left you shaking in your leather boots, salt and gasoline in hand, searching for a stupid old grave. Your teeth chattered as you walked, something that did not go unnoticed by one Dean Winchester.

“You alright there, Princess?” he joked.

You rolled your eyes at the nickname he had given you years ago, “Just cold. Ready to get this over with and go back to the motel.”

“Well, you’re in luck,” Sam spoke up, stopping at a headstone a few feet ahead of you. “Just found our guy.”

-

It was Dean’s turn to dig, so you and Sam leaned against a large headstone while you watched Dean. Sam couldn’t help but laugh at the sight of you shivering. You were clearly miserable.

“Why didn’t you wear a jacket?” He asked.

You let out a huff. “Well, the weather was just so nice today, so I didn’t think about it. And since we haven’t been back to the motel since this morning, I’m left freezing my ass off.”

“Oh come on, it’s not that cold out here.”

“Says the human space heater.”

You felt Sam’s eyes on you for a moment longer before he shrugged his jacket off, uncovering not one but two more layers of clothing underneath. Before you could ask him what he was doing, he was placing the jacket around your shoulders. You instantly felt warm and safe, the smell of his shampoo and soap surrounding you.

His hand lingered on your shoulder just a moment longer than what was probably necessary, but you didn’t think anything of it. “Here. Take my jacket.”

t w o

Your head hurt. That was the first thought you had when you woke up, for once thankful that the bunker didn’t have windows to let any light into your bedroom. Not yet wanting to move out of your warm spot in the bed, you rested your eyes a bit more, mentally kicking yourself for drinking so much with the Winchester brothers.

After years of living with them, you think you would have learned that you couldn’t keep up with them when they were on a binge. The three of you were having a great time last night, though; laughing and joking around like you hadn’t in a very long time. One drink turned into quite a few, and after a long while you had forgotten just how many times you had filled your glass with whiskey. So you stumbled off to bed, leaving the brothers to drink the night away by themselves. Though it was obvious by the pounding in your skull and the severe case of cotton mouth that you hadn’t cut yourself off soon enough.

Slowly turning your body to check your phone on your bedside table, you noticed a glass of water and a banana, no doubt left there for you by the younger Winchester. Sam was good to you like that; always looking out for you and helping you whenever he could. It was one of the many things you loved about him.

You drank the water quickly and nibbled on the banana, not particularly wanting to eat, but knowing that you should. As you ate, the smell of freshly brewed coffee came through from the kitchen of the bunker, making your mouth water and tempting you to leave your cocoon.

You slowly got out of bed and made your way down to the kitchen, barely acknowledging Sam leaning against a counter as you made a beeline for the coffee pot. A groan left you when you noticed it already empty.

“Rough morning?” Sam asked with a knowing smile.

“You could say that,” you replied dryly as you searched the pantry for the canister of coffee you kept. “Where’s the coffee?”

Sam didn’t answer right away. “Oh, um, I kind of just took the last of it. Dean left to get more. Sorry.”

You turned to look at him, noticing the sheepish smile gracing his face and the coffee mug in his hands.

“Seriously? Since when do we not keep this place stocked with coffee?” you dropped dramatically onto one of the chairs at the table, resigned to waiting until Dean came back. Sam sat next to you at the table, placing the near full mug in front of you. He looked at you, the kind smile he always wore when he was with you on his face.

“You’re lucky I’m such a nice guy,” he said. “We can share.”

t h r e e

“It’s not up for discussion anymore, Sam.”

“Do you not realize how dangerous this is?”

“This whole life is dangerous! I’m. Doing. This.” You turned your back to Sam before he could get another word in and stomped off to the grimy motel bathroom. You were just wasting time arguing with him and you needed to get yourself ready for the night.

The three of you were down in New Orleans hunting a group of vamps. Two women had been found totally drained of blood within the past week, and they were both last seen at a bar near Canal. Thanks to Sam’s keen eye for detail, he was able to spot a suspect in the security footage from both nights, even when the police hadn’t noticed him lurking in the crowd. You suspected that the vamp who picked up these women was low on the totem pole, probably only being used to bring them to the alpha of the group, because both women shared very similar physical characteristics.

It appeared that the alpha had a type, and it just so happened that you fit that type perfectly.

When you brought this up to the guys, Dean considered it, but Sam immediately refused to let you go into the bar as bait. He reasoned that it was too risky, that too many things could go wrong. After a quick reminder that last time you checked he was not your father, husband, or keeper, and you could do whatever the hell you wanted, his refusal turned into a plea for you to reconsider. He insisted that you could think of a better plan. However since Dean thought that this was the best thing to do, Sam reluctantly agreed, still trying to talk you out of it while you got dressed. You squeezed into your tightest jeans and put on way more makeup than your normal ‘foundation and mascara’ look, and exited the bathroom, eliciting a low whistle from Dean.

“How do I look?” You asked.

“I’d pick you up if I saw you lookin’ like that.” Dean winked. If looks could kill, the one he got from Sam would have taken another one of his seemingly endless supply of lives.

You laughed, “Good, that’s the point, I guess. Now let’s go catch some freaks.”

-

Since the motel was only two blocks from the bar, you had decided to walk, discussing the plan for what had to have been the tenth time. You and Sam hung back while Dean entered first, both to scope out the joint and to not seem like the three of you were together. Laughter and music poured from the entrance, Zeppelin’s ‘Whole Lotta Love’ filling the silence between you and Sam.

“You sure you want to do this?” He asked suddenly. “We could sit and keep an eye on him; watch him try to pick up chicks.”

“The woman he picks up may not be able to defend herself like I can, Sam.” He nodded, but something was bothering you. “Hey, why are you so worried about this? This isn’t that big of a deal.”

Sam opened his mouth and quickly shut it, clearly wanting to say something. He was quiet for a beat, then waived it off.

You weren’t convinced, but it had been a few minutes and you needed to get this show on the road. “I’m going in. Wait five minutes, then come in?”

As you walked toward the entrance, you felt a gentle tug at your arm. You looked back to find Sam at the other end of the arm that had reached for yours. The look on his face told you there were a million things he wanted to say, but only two words came out.

“Be careful.”

f o u r

Three swift knocks on your motel room door startled you from the game show you had been watching, trying to distract yourself from the terrible day you’d had.

An involuntary sigh slipped past your lips as you contemplated not answering. You had a hunch as to who was knocking on your door, and part of you didn’t want to talk to him after the last conversation you had with the hunter. You wanted to pretend to be asleep and ignore this problem until tomorrow, but he knocked again and called your name, clearly wanting to talk. Clicking the small TV in your room off, you made your way to the door to answer it. An uneasy feeling hit your stomach when you saw Sam’s face, your mind replaying the last time you had seen him.

To say it had been a long day would be a tremendous understatement. The three of you were hunting down a very elusive shapeshifter who had managed to kill four people since you had arrived in town, and it had tensions running high between you. Between that, Abbadon, and trying to decode the demon tablet, the three of you were all on edge. It all came to a roaring head when you finally had tracked down the shifter’s most recent hideout; an old abandoned factory on the edge of town. Upon hearing screams coming from inside, you ran in while the boys were still forming a plan; desperate to save these people and finish the job.

After the hunt was finished, you and Sam walked back to the Impala while Dean cleaned up what remained of the shifter, not a word spoken between the two of you during the short walk. Sam threw his silver blade into the back of the Impala unceremoniously before finally breaking the silence, yelling at you for not waiting for him or Dean as backup. You had never seen Sam this angry with you before. He was relentless, saying that you had been stupid, foolish. Only when you screamed back at him with tears in your eyes that you had learned that from him did he stop his rant, allowing you to slip into the back of the car without another word.

Now, it seemed as if Sam had finally calmed down. He had his hands buried in the pockets of his jacket and he avoided your gaze. You noticed Sam’s shoulders visibly relax when you moved to the side to let him inside your room. Sam sat on the edge of your bed, running a hand through his hair before he spoke.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.”

Looking into his eyes for the first time since your argument, you noted the guilt and shame in them. You just stood in front of him with your arms crossed, silent. His words were harsh, and it was going to take more than a feeble ‘I’m sorry’ to make it better.

Sensing this, Sam took a breath and spoke again “Really, I’m so sorry. You didn’t deserve that. I’m just so stressed out about these stupid tablets, and the trials, and I’m worried about Kevin, and Dean, and you, and I took it out on you. I just don’t want to see anyone get hurt.”

“Sam, it’s going to happen. Hell, it has happened. I’ve been hunting with you guys for years now. You know how good I am. And it still happens to me, and you, and Dean. It’s just hazards of the life.”

Sam nodded, “I know, and that won’t happen again. I just worry about you.”

Your heart softened at that. “I know you do, and I’m glad you do, but you need to let me do the job.”

“You’re right, it won’t happen again. I’m sorry.”

You uncrossed your arms and wrapped them around his neck in a hug, silently telling him that all was forgiven and Sam reciprocated instantly.

You pulled away after a moment, briefly contemplating closing the gap between the two of you once again; finally undoing the not doing with one simple kiss like you had dreamt of doing for so long. But, you decided against it, leaving things just the way things were.

f i v e

Of all the things that could go wrong in this line of work; all of the monsters who wanted you dead, you would have never guessed that your complete lack of coordination would be the thing to keep you out of the game.

You had been cooped up in the Impala for hours with the guys, travelling to your next case. Dean hadn’t stopped driving for close to six hours, saying he “didn’t want to waste daylight.” Not that you really minded; it allowed you to stretch out in the backseat and relax before this case, but you were getting restless. Right around when you hit the six hour mark, Dean took an exit just outside of Bloomington, Illinois to fill up on gas and grab a late lunch, and you were beyond excited to get out of the car for a few minutes.

So excited, in fact, that your feet tripped over one another as you got out of the car, causing your right ankle to snap as you fell.

Dean tried to catch you before you hit the ground, but it was too late. Your ankle began to swell almost instantly, and you found yourself right back in the backseat of the Impala, Sam wrapping your ankle while Dean got the food.

Two hours later when you had finally arrived at a motel in town, the swelling in your ankle had gone down, but only very slightly. You had been ordered by both Sam and Dean to stay on the bed with your ankle elevated while they got changed for the hunt.

“Me and Sammy are gonna go to the station, see what we can find,” Dean said as he slipped on his Fed shoes, “You - stay on the bed and keep that foot up.”

“Dean, come on. It’s not that bad,” you argued. You did not want to be stuck in this room after being in the car for the better part of the day.

Dean only smirked, walking across the room to the door. “Not that bad, huh? Walk over to me, then. Without wincing or limping.”

You stood, determined to pass this little test of his. However, you groaned in pain after just one step. “Dammit,” you muttered as you sat back on the bed. “Fine, you win, I guess.”

He didn’t even attempt to hide the triumphant smirk on his face,  "That’s what I thought. Stay in bed.“

Sam emerged from the bathroom just then, seemingly having heard the whole exchange, "It’s probably for the best.” He said.

“It’s just a stupid little sprain,” you grumbled. You were nothing if not stubborn.

Sam shook his head, taking a seat next to you on the bed. “It looks like a pretty bad sprain, actually. It shouldn’t have swelled that fast. Besides, you’d slow us down if you came. You know that.“

He was right, of course. You would only slow them down, and you knew they couldn’t afford to have any distractions while they were on the job. Besides, how could you argue when Sam was looking at you with those sad little puppy eyes of his?

“I know, you’re right. Go kill yourselves a monster, I’ll be fine here.”

With a quick pat to your good leg, Sam stood from his spot on the bed to fluff a pillow and carefully placed it under your right foot. “There’s snacks in the bag and drinks in the fridge. We’ll be back soon. Call me if you need anything.”

s i x

Your bare feet ached as you ran through the barely lit corridor. This hall was never ending; everytime you thought you’d reached the end, the walls would only stretch further. The only sounds you heard were your heart thudding against your chest and feet smacking against the cold concrete floor. You were terrified and alone, and your body was begging you to stop running, but something in you knew that you had to reach the end.

Just when you thought you couldn’t go anymore, you saw a figure crumpled on the ground a few feet in front of you. Despite the burning in your lungs you pushed yourself to keep running until you reached it, and you couldn’t help but fall to your knees when you saw what was waiting for you at the end.

"No, no way.” You felt as if you were going to be sick; you didn’t want to believe what you were seeing. His skin was cold as ice as you grabbed him, confirming your fears. Your knuckles turned white as your grip on his arm tightened, “Son of a bitch, NO!” The shriek was loud and deafening in your ears; you barely recognized the voice as your own.

You heard a familiar voice calling your name, but it was muffled, almost like it was coming from outside, wherever outside was. Your eyes couldn’t leave him, though. You heard the voice again, closer this time.

And just like that, the haunting visions from your nightmare were replaced with your dark bedroom at the bunker. You no longer felt cold and you felt a set of warm hands on your bare arms, presumably what woke you. You chest heaved as you attempted to calm yourself; the terrible feeling in your guy still there.

The hands that were holding you left your arms and reached to click on your bedside lamp. You closed your eyes at the sudden light, but a soft, calming voice let you know that it was Sam.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” you felt Sam brush a few pieces of hair away from your face as he spoke. “You’re okay, just breathe.”

Focusing on Sam’s voice and his words, you tried again to ground yourself. The panic you felt and the uneasiness on your stomach slowly ebbed while you collected yourself, taking a few deep breaths, just like Sam said. With your breathing almost back to normal, you opened your eyes to see Sam sitting next to you on the bed, his eyes filled with worry.

“Feel better?” He asked.

“Yeah, thanks.” You glanced at the clock on your nightstand, it read just after three in the morning. “I’m sorry I woke you up.”

“No worries, we all get nightmares from time to time. I’m surprised you didn’t wake Dean up, too. You were screaming loud enough for me to think something had gotten in here.” His tone was light, but you still hated that you had woken him up just because of a stupid nightmare.

Sensing your discomfort, his smile faltered. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You gnawed at the inside of your cheek for a moment, trying to decide what to say. You don’t tell him that you dreamt of him, cold and lifeless. You don’t say that you knew, somehow, that this was it. There would be no saving him or bringing him back to life. He was gone, empty. Dead.

“Uh, it was the wendigo. From the hunt last week.” You lied.

Sam looked skeptical. “A wendigo made you scream like that?”

“It was attacking me,” you replied. “It was a pretty vivid nightmare.” That part wasn’t a lie, at least.

It was apparent that he didn’t believe you, but he thankfully let it go. “Do you want me to stay? It may help you sleep better.”

Though your heart jumped at the chance to sleep with him next to you, you didn’t want him to feel obligated. “I’m fine, Sam. I’ll just watch TV or something 'till I pass out.”

“It’d be just like when we share a bed on hunts. You always seem to sleep better when we share, anyway.”

After a quick nod from you, Sam crawled under the covers with you and clicked off the lamp. You turned onto your side to face away from him and felt a heavy arm drape around your waist. You two had done this a hundred times, but you never tired of this feeling.

“You sure this is okay?” You whispered.

“Trust me, this is fine.” Sam pulled you a little tighter to him. “I don’t mind.”

s e v e n

Your foot tapped impatiently on the linoleum tile of the hospital as you watched Sam sleep. You and Dean had been waiting in his room for hours silently urging him to wake up, or at least move a finger or something. Anything let you know that he was still there.

The hunt had been a total clusterfuck. The three of you had gone in totally unprepared for what was waiting inside, but all hunters know that if you get the chance to gank the sorry S.O.B. you’re after, you take it. So, you had stormed the warehouse with only a gun and the silver blade you kept in your boot, Sam and Dean close behind with a few weapons of their own. Surprisingly, the fight was over quickly, Dean stabbing it straight through the heart just before it could get a hold of you. After a quick inspection of Dean to make sure he wasn’t too hurt, you noticed Sam wasn’t with him.

As if Dean could read your mind, he looked behind him. “You seen Sam?”

Panic flooded your mind as you shook your head, and the two of you went separate ways searching for him. Nothing could have prepared you for how you found Sam, slouched against a wall unconscious, blood leaking out of a wound that seemed to come from his abdomen, and another one from his forehead. You screamed for Dean, trying futility to move him and hold pressure to the stomach wound at the same time.

You were a wreck the whole ride to the nearest hospital. You sat in the back with Sam, combing his hair with your hands as you tried not to think the worst. Tears threatened to spill from your eyes as you yelled for Dean to drive faster, knowing he was already driving like a bat out of hell, but you didn’t care. The logical part of your brain wasn’t working. The only thing you could think of was getting Sam help.

-

Three cracked ribs, a dislocated shoulder, too many cuts, scrapes, and bruises to count, and a severe concussion. The doctor on call had informed you and Dean that they had done all they could, stopped the bleeding and made him comfortable, but he had lost a lot of blood. That combined with the head injury was serious, and now it was all up to Sam to wake up.  It was your worst nightmare come to life.

So, now, you and Dean were in his room; you at his bedside since you had first walked in, your small hands holding one of Sam’s. The room was silent save for the steady beeping on the monitor.

Dean mumbled something about getting you both some more coffee and you nodded absently, your gaze not leaving Sam’s face. God, it was torture seeing him like this. Sure, you had seen him with broken bones and blood pouring from wounds all over his body, but never this bad. Never not here. He always bounced back. This was different, though. No one could tell you if he would come back or not.

You sent a silent prayer to whoever was listening for him to just wake up and be okay. You weren’t ready to do this life without him; not yet. There were too many things you hadn’t done, too many things you hadn’t told him. If this was it, well, you wouldn’t know what to do with yourself.

Sam’s fingers twitched then. It was barely noticeable; you thought for a moment that you had imagined it, but then they moved again, more this time.

“Sam?” His name came out as a gasp as you looked him over, seeing that his eyes were finally open again. Those kind, hazel eyes that you weren’t sure if you’d ever see again were looking up at you through heavy lids. He smiled softly, whispering a quiet “Hey, you.”

“Dammit, Sam,” you cried out, your grip on his hand even tighter as you felt your tears start anew, this time out of sheer relief. “I was so fucking worried about you. I didn’t know what was going to happen; if you were coming back.”

“I’ll always come back to you,” he said whispered, squeezing your hand with his own, “Don’t worry about me.”

e i g h t

This was far from where you expected your night to go, but it’s not like you were complaining.

You, Sam, and Dean had completed a successful hunt earlier in the evening. While you normally hit the road right after hunts, Dean had decided that you were going to stay the night, saying something about hitting up a few bars in the city. You had declined his offer to join him, and Sam quickly followed suit, much to your surprise. Instead, he suggested that the two of you do something fun that didn’t include crowded bars and playing pool. Without much convincing on his part you agreed, happy to get some alone time with Sam.

Which is how you found yourself alone with Sam and a six pack of beer on a secluded bench across the river, looking out towards the city. You couldn’t help but think about how date-like this felt. The thought made your heart flutter.

“How did you know this was here, Sam?” you asked, taking a sip from your beer. It was a beautiful little spot; the bright lights from the city sticking out against the dark night sky and the reflection on the water.

He shrugged, “Honestly, I didn’t for sure. I just figured there would be a few nice spots along the river. Turns out I was right.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle, “Well, thanks for being right, Sammy. It’s gorgeous.”

Sam snaked an arm around your shoulders, humming in agreement. It was something he had done a million times before, but this time felt different in a way you couldn’t put your finger on. You leaned into him, pretending for only a moment, that the two of you had normal jobs, normal lives. You let yourself make believe that this was a normal occurrence; being out on a date with the man you loved.

Even with the city noise and the hum of cars crossing the bridge, you swore you could hear Sam’s heart pounding in his chest. You turned to look at his face, and were surprised to find him already looking down at you. Sam slowly brought a hand to your face, brushing a few rogue hairs away and cupping your jaw in his hand. He seemed almost hesitant, like he was testing you. Making sure you wouldn’t turn away from him. You had never before seen Sam so unsure of himself.

You searched his eyes for a brief moment trying to find a reason behind this, then something clicked. This sudden private outing to what had to be one of the most romantic spots in the city, Dean’s constant insistence of “He loves you, ya know.” The way Sam was looking at you, like he was trying to see inside your soul. You realized that your feelings for Sam may not be as unrequited as you thought.

Before you lost your nerve, you did the one thing you had wanted to do for as long as you could remember. You gently pressed your lips to Sam’s as your own little test. You had to make sure that this wasn’t just wishful thinking on your part. When Sam answered by pulling you closer to him, you felt yourself practically melt against him. This felt so right, as if these were the lips you were meant to kiss for the rest of your life. You pushed even closer to him, wanting to put everything you had left unsaid into the kiss. That he was worth it, that he was enough. You wanted to show him that despite all the things he had done, that he was deserving of love, and that as long as he wanted you, you weren’t going anywhere.

You wanted him to know that you loved him.

He pulled away slowly, smiling wider than he had in a long time, “I’ve wanted to do that for so long, you have no idea.”

You were sure that your smile matched his, “Yeah, me too, Sammy.”

You opened your mouth to speak; to say those three little words that had been on the tip of your tongue for what seemed like forever, but Sam beat you to it.

With another chaste kiss to your lips and a brush of his hand on your skin, he whispered,

“I love you.”

[clonerightsagenda]

Oh, when u have the finger energy for it, calliope VS skaia-muse-Callie VS alpha-lord-Caliborn VS directors’ cut alt!caliborn dvd commentary discussion sometime? 

I am dictating this entire DVD commentary.  We are going to see how that goes.  To prevent the computer from getting upset at me for weird words, I am giving all the characters code names. So let’s talk about the adventures of Carl and Cindy, and I will use find replace later.

Calliope ends up being more of a McGuffin than a character in canon.  Sure, she’s nice and sweet and provides a lot of the exposition near the beginning of Act six, but after that she is mostly something to rescue.  Once she is rescued, she doesn’t do much in the story.  I know there is something said within canon about not having to do anything to be worth saving or worthwhile as a person, and that IS important!  However, I also thought that after being victimized by her brother, she should be allowed to play some part in taking him down.  She has stakes! More than Vriska, for sure. We haven’t gotten there yet, but you may recall her being told she will have to help defeat him in the end.  Something to look forward to.  Calliope also ends up being very sweet and good, which she is.  However, she does have some faults, the biggest of which is that she admits a few times that she sometimes views her friends as characters.  Those faults are shown most dramatically in her other self, but she does get snappy toward Alt Caliborn in the director’s cut portions.  A lot of her development, which you haven’t seen much of yet, is going to involve learning from the mistakes of her other itself.

That seems like a good transition.  Alt Calliope isn’t exactly a villain in this story, but she is an antagonist.  She doesn’t have negative intentions.  In fact, her concern is the perpetuation of reality.  However, she is most interested in defeating her brother, because she sees him as a dangerous instability against good order. The little people don’t matter so much. Now, I actually thought canon would establish that she was behind the game. So much of the comic is about things that seemed mysterious or eternal (the demon, the universe, the Green Sun) secretly having an origin.  After all, the whole thing is a creation myth.  So when I started writing this, I honestly thought it would be stated in Homestuck proper that she was behind the game.  That did not happen, but that is what I went with.  So in our version, she used her powers to inspire the game, and the consciousness behind it.  She is the value system behind Skaia.

And that is where we get into Calliope’s faults.  Because Calliope, watching from a distance, was tempted to see her friends as characters. This version has never interacted with people directly.  She had only herself, her thoughts, and what she could see. It was easy for her to dehumanize them. They are the pawns on the chessboard of the game she is playing with her brother, and she will move them and sacrifice them in whatever ways she thinks will lead to the greater good.  Which is not so great if you are one of those pawns.  I have gotten into my issues with Skaia before, so I will just link you over if you want to look at them. But she is definitely a lesson in what not to do, and how space can become just as terrible as time.

So let’s move on to her adversary.  Lord English is not really a person anymore.  He is actually several technically, but all of them have degraded into a cosmic force. If Alt Calliope is a creation at the expense of individuals, Lord English is destruction at the whim of one individual.  He’s searching for his sister to consolidate his power, but he also just likes wrecking stuff.  Much as Calliope is behind Skaia, one oppressive force, LE is behind the alpha timeline.  Both constrain the possible actions of the other characters, punishing them for any divergence.  Anyone who writes a different story than the privileged alpha is doomed and killed.  (I talked a fair bit about the tyranny of the author here.) I’m not sure this is even what Caliborn wanted really.  Yes, it is a final manifestation of his self absorption and determination, but at the cost of his own personality.  I kind of see both of these “fully realized” master Classes as a sign that too much of your role can overcome you.  They are pure time and space in the worst ways possible. Overly clinical, heartless creation and overly aimless, heartless destruction.

Speaking of how Caliborn wouldn’t like it, enter Alt Caliborn.  I didn’t want to do some pat ‘he becomes pure good’ thing.  He’s still a deck.  Man, it really doesn’t want me to swear.  Anyway, he is still a jerk.  That is just his personality.  However, I find strict binaries too simplistic.  Saying every type of this species is 100% evil all of the time is dumb.  So yes, he is still spiteful and rude.  If he was given the opportunity to sell his sister out to his own advantage, he totally would.  However, he is not mindlessly destructive.  He sees that cooperating is advantageous.  Also, this gave me a chance to highlight some character traits that disappeared later in the story as he was absorbed into the final boss.  He is insecure, has trouble learning, and sometimes feels abandoned.  All those come out much more clearly in this version.  Is he a good person?  No. But I didn’t feel like one note villains, and since Lord English kind of is inevitably one note by virtue of being a force of nature, I decided to flesh this one out instead.

In conclusion, I'm not wild about pure good or pure evil. The cherubs’ “realized” selves demonstrate how too much conviction to any ideal can become horrible and oppressive to those living in the world you are trying to create. No one person should be allowed to determine everyone's narratives. That is the danger of the master classes I think, and perhaps why their species was never supposed to play this game. It is a lesson Calliope will take to heart. 

[defiestars]

some quick verse + tlj thoughts related info  * *  very uhHHH likely to change as i go / as i remember things more clearly if / when i subject myself to tlj again

i.  recovery   //    in the empire strikes back novelisation luke was in his bacta tank for 12 hours and then slept for another 16 hours for fatal hypothermia.  assuming bacta technology has advanced and become more sophisticated,  particularly because it’s now been synthesised into a suit,  i’d estimate finn’s recovery to have been in the 30-36 hour mark.  (   also, he’s force-sensitive but that’s A Whole Other Topic  !  )   

if we assume:  day 1 post-tfa:  rey staying long enough to get her hot new Grey Jedi Look together  +  organise the gps bracelet plan with leia.  the resistance receiving alerts that the first order fleet is approaching and beginning evacuation plans.  day 2 post-tfa:  finn wakes up,  half a day earlier than he did in tlj,  just in time to offer information on the weak points of the star destroyers and the dreadnought, including helping devise the plan to eliminate the dreadnought’s surface cannons and clear the way for the resistance bombers. 

ii.  allegiance   //   FINN OWES !! THE RESISTANCE !! NOTHING !!!!!!  HE DOESN’T OWE ANYBODY SHIT !!!!!!!  this boy has risked his life and livelihood time and again from the moment he chose not to kill for the first order for complete strangers,  for a movement he had no prior connections with.  even if leaving and becoming a  ‘’’’’’’ traitor ‘’’’’’ to the resistance had been right for his character and a valid development in his character arc,  he does not deserve to be called a deserter for wanting nothing to do with the first order ever again.  like........... does anybody fucking realise that alongside the very possible defeat of the resistance, finn being captured by the first order again probably means he wouldn’t be killed, but  reconditioned  ???????  the first order has had deserters, too !!   they also get tasered !  in the Head, specifically their Brain, where they’re basically restored to factory settings.  not to mention the sheer amount of bravery and courage and heroism it takes for him to turn around and face the organization that destroyed his childhood, enslaved him, and has systematically abused him every day of his life.

with all of that said,,,,,  it makes 0 sense for finn to decide, in the middle of the resistance evacuation, to suddenly up and leave with a shitty ass excuse about needing to be far away for when rey comes back.  like ??????  rey's path is already so deeply and inexorably tied to the rube goldberg machine that is the jedi, the resistance, and the skywalkers,  and finn knows this.  even if he wasn’t fundamentally a person with a moral compass that couldn’t be broken even by two decades of indoctrination into a fascist space nazi regime,  finn does The Things He Does because they’re the right thing to do.  his character arc is not and has never been defined by rey.  i don’t know what dinosaur sloth titty juice rian johnson’s been drinking but repeating parts of finn’s earlier character development to the point of regression is not !!! good !!!! writing !!!!!!!

given that he’s spent 36ish hours in a recovery coma,  finn hasn’t had so much as a Second to process,  or decide,  where he stands in the resistance.  like rey,  he too is looking for someone to show him his place in all this.  unlike rey,  he has no mentor figure, no introspective screentime alone,  no inner dialogue or space to explore who he is now in the post-first order part of his life.  but,  for the time being and given the time-sensitivity of the resistance evacuation,  he is absolutely on the side of the rebels.  these are the people who saved him and protected him,  who gave him the jacket off their backs and something to fight for.  not only does deserting make 0 logical or tactical sense in the middle of an evacuation,  it’s just outright selfish ??  and self-serving ???  none of which finn is, thank you @ryan johnson.

iii.  rebellion   //   so there’s been a lot of differing opinions on finn and rose’s storyline and after agonizing a lot of this i’ve come to the almost final decision that it’s Not As Bad as ppl want it to be.  like a lot of mischaracterisation fuck-ups in tlj,  it mainly comes down to  how this storyline was treated in the grand scheme of tlj and how significant it was to the overarching plot.  canto bight only seems irrelevant because ryan johnson is a terrible fucking writer who thrives off sidelining his characters of color.  thematically, it served it as a damning critique of the powerful ruling class and political economic elites that are actively profitting from the injustice and oppression of war.  rose showing those kids the resistance emblem in her ring is one of the most iconic moments in the film;  inspiring a whole generation of children to rise up against their oppressors is  everything the resistance symbolizes and fights for.  

throwing in an unnecessary oc spitting some half-assed  ‘ everything isn’t always good or bad, sometimes there’s just grey areas ’  message in a parallel of the jedi story and ultimately having the undercover mission serve No Purpose Whatsoever was a shitty move.  in keeping with the fandom interpretation that tlj is a story about failure,  this would’ve been okay  only  if  the detour onto the star destroyer hadn’t been for absolutely nothing.  because there Needed to be fucking somETHINg,  instead of just benicio del toro rihanna.gif winking with the parting words that  ‘ hey sometimes people are just assholes ’.  star wars isn’t a story... about... people being fundamentally shitty..... it’s a story about good vs. bad and the enduring struggle for Balance between them;  People Are Both.  it doesn’t matter what you are but what you  do  and the choice you have to do good or bad.  to counteract the shittiness of dj fucking off,  leaving two poc to be forced onto their knees by a white fascist villain,  and a black character to be slapped upside the face by said white fascist villain we needed Something.  WHERE WAS OUR STORMTROOPER UPRISING, hMMMmm MMm MMMM mMM MM ????????????

bb-8 showing up as deus ex sight gag was funny for 2.5 seconds but now i'm just.... like crait.... a whole Salt Planet.  we could have had, it All ?  i don’t even specifically know where this part of my tlj-divergent verse goes because it actually requires other non-canon characters to exist but.... hey if any ex-stormtrooper oc’s wanna hmu.... u kno where i’m at.  basically,  i picture a handful of stormtroopers defecting,  escaping with rose and finn,  becoming part of  the rebellion that is reborn. 

iv.  battle of crait   //   this... fuc king scene..... god.  let’s just get the wampa out of the way.  rose’s  ‘ that’s how we’re gonna win.  not fighting what we hate, saving what we love ’  was totally narratively undeserved.  this is not a criticism of the character but of ryan, again, the man who was paid millions of dollars to write this garbage.  in under 18 hours,,,, rose has decided that she has gotten over her lifelong hatred for the first order,  her very recent and fresh grief over losing her sister who died Fighting The First Order,  and oH,  she LOVES FINN ?  WHAT.  cool.  coolcoolcool.

in my canon, i’m going to go with the idea that rose did not kiss finn.  but they have a fantastic dynamic,  and rose crashing into him, saving him and saying something similar to what she said but more along the lines of not wanting to lose another person she cares about to the first order would have been much... better....  i view this ship as primarily platonic, at least far as tlj goes.  finnrey and finnpoe barely had any screentime / development so ryan johnson is flat-out playing no-homo games if he thinks he’s going to sail a ship based on 18 hours of knowing each other.  but i’m totally open to seeing where it goes with proper development, etc. in rp,  so if there are any rose’s that would like to plot with me and discuss finnrose stuff please !!!  i’m begging you !!!!  

if ya made it to the end,  thank you,  ur the real mvp,  u are now obligated to message me to plot or yell at me abt ur own tlj salt / headcanons / character analysis. 

[kae-karo]

2020 fic roundup

howdy pardners 🤠🤠 in order to procrastinate more writing here’s my list of all the fics i posted this year (sorted predominantly by ship and mostly in order of posting) - ft a lot of dabihawks and a surprising amount of todobaku lmao. oh and my personal faves are **starred

dabihawks (x)

a lesson in romantics (x) - 66k across 4 fics - the collection of standalone memory loss fics! canon divergent and centered around either dabi or hawks losing their memories thanks to the wonderful commission :) some solid angst and getting back together content, always happy endings!!

haven’t had enough (x) - 5.7k - silly little quirkless au where dabi goes to claire’s to get his ears pierced. multiple times. bc hawks is hot

last of the real ones (x) - 2.6k - less silly, just as little, set in canon-divergence bc i couldn’t get the idea out of my head of dabi getting red wings tattooed on him before ever meeting hawks

**dancing after death (x) - 25k - one of my faves from this year, a canon divergent sort of getting together story involving nightmares, some bad burns, and a bit of dancing

if you fall (hold my hand) (x) - 7.4k - canon divergence (bc apparently i’m a slut for that) and some hurt/comfort, ft a bit of makeout-level spice

no shame (x) - 16k - ah, and here we really dive into the ‘crack treated too seriously’ category, where the league sells feet/hand/misc kink pics to fund their activities and dabi has some photography skills and a wing kink (or maybe just a hawks kink)

broken parts (x) - 23.9k - i stole my own idea for a vigilante!hawks from my tiktok, then twisted it into a severely angsty (with a happy ending) hurt/comfort fic intended to break my own heart and piece it back together. it worked

freeing icarus (x) - 1.8k - the first fic without a happy ending i think i ever wrote, because the canon dabihawks fight actually broke me. some dabi introspection

**to the stars that burn (x) - 3.9k - the second fic without a happy ending, based more around childhood friends dabihawks working at the commission together. bittersweet but without much sweet

**king of disaster (x) - 119k+ - i poured my entire soul into this series, a fantasy au where dabi accidentally binds himself to hawks (an absolute stranger) and shenanigans ensue - this has also evolved to include todobaku, shinkami, and kirideku

enemy of my enemy (x) - 2.6k - a quirkswap space pirate au that truly tested my ability to write action scenes, part of the random prompt collection i did during october 2020

without a fight (x) - 2.2k - a rival band au ft singer!hawks and a grumpy dabi, another of the random october prompts

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todobaku (x)

like i’m bakugou (x) - 2.1k - it was supposed to be a MEME based on a TIKTOK but i made it kinda serious....and here we are. todobaku on a froyo date

take a bite of my heart tonight (x) - 5k - VAMPIRES lmao. honestly it was a blast to write tho lmao

**if we go down, then we go down together (x) - 9.3k - tdbk get stranded on a deserted island bc tropes are fun lmao. also todo tries to freeze the ocean like elsa which i think is where my writing skill peaked

cold rebellion (x) - 4k - quirkless au where its HALLOWEEN and theyre in a CORN MAZE and they don’t LIKE EACH OTHER BAKA (part of the october prompt fic collection)

make it spicy (x) - 5k+ - predominantly todobaku with a healthy dose of dabihawks and some shiggynatsu as well, a bakery and nightclub au (yes u heard me)

**stitch me up (x) - 35k - todo gets split into both halves of his quirks, sort of, and baku has to deal with it (and i love this au so much i had a blast working on it)

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bakudeku

rescue me (x) - 11.4k - basically the concept of ‘what if baku and deku were actually childhood friends tho? aka some good wholesome content

**into the dark (x) - 3.3k - afterlife au and originally part of the random prompts, baku didn’t survive the sludge villain incident and deku’s been carrying that weight for a while. and then he doesn’t survive a villain encounter...keep an eye on this one cause i’m working on a part 2 lmao

are you with me (x) - 2.1k - future fic where baku and deku are both heroes and, appropriately, the wonder duo. lil angsty but ofc a happy ending, part of the random oct prompts collection

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todobakudeku (x)

**kintsugi (x) - 117k - future fic where they’re all UA teachers, with some established todobaku + todobakudeku getting together, a lil sprinkle of erasercloudmic, a nice dose of shinkami and some great shiggy redemption arc + eri attending UA content

reunion (x) - 1.8k - another future fic lmao with some getting-back-together content. part of the random october prompts collection

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kiribaku (x)

rewrite the stars (x) - 2.8k - also a mina&kiri friendship fic, a soulmate au where kiri doesn’t get the soulmate he was hoping for (part of the oct prompts collection)

the mystery gang (x) - 4.1k - tell me how i wrote this much about a scooby doo-styled fic concept lmao. anyway, part of the oct prompts, includes some bakusquad shenanigans

wasteland, baby (x) - 4.5k - bakusquad bodyswap post-apocalyptic au and yes it’s just as chaotic as it sounds lmao. part of the oct prompts collection

like the sun (x) - 2.8k - the beach episode + baku&mei friendship (which i learned is called kat and the hat???? adorable) fluffy content, part of the oct prompts collection!

something sweet (x) - 1.2k - the actual kiribaku prompt i got lmao. coffee shop meets scavenger hunt, we adore a grumpy barista baku lmao. part of the oct prompts collection

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todokami/todo&kami

oh, worm? (x) - 16.5k - it was supposed to be a joke but oh my god i love the idea of both todo and denki being memelords and falling in love with each other over it

secret tunnel (x) - 3.6k - conspiracy theorist todo meets conspiracy theorist denki in college au format and it’s really just top tier content imo - part of the oct prompt collection

all i want for christmas (x) - 3.5k - it was supposed to be a crack concept but as per usual it became less cracky the longer i thought about it. todokami fake dating babeyyyy - part of the oct prompt collection

**hydrangea (x) - 2.9k - soft todo introspection about his lil dragon hoard of things that make him think of his friends, which he decides to share with denki

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shiggynatsu (x)

**death of summer (x) - 28k - the first fic i ever wrote for them and the most chaotic meeting i could come up with within the realm of canon divergence lmao. todofam hosting...shmigaraki

terrible people (x) - 960 - a lil babie established shiggynatsu fic about shiggy’s bday, basically just soft and wholesome - part of the oct prompt collection

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shinkami (x)

don’t want to say goodnight (x) - 3.2k - kyouka pov on a shinkami getting together lil thing that lived in my brain rent free for a long time

don’t want to say goodnight (x) - 1k - yes i’m aware i see what i’ve done lmao i see the mistake i made. anyway this one is villain!shinsou and villain!denki so it’s like,,,,,the slightly spicier version. part of the oct prompt collection

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other

**twelve over, seven up (x) - 4.5k - a bit of aizawa introspection after oboro’s death, bittersweet but mostly wholesome

a danger and a wonder (x) - 2.4k - mina&tokoyami friendship and bonding over mina’s kid and hawks’ kid (who tokoyami is babysitting) - part of the oct prompt collection

fish and feathers (x) - 4.1k - my chance to flex my remaining runescape knowledge to have jirou and denki friendship via the interwebs content

a name freely given (x) - 4.2k - shigadabi fake dating royalty au where shiggy’s fae? sure why not lmaoooo. part of the oct prompt collection

kabloom flower shop (x) - 2.8k - a wrong-number tattoo shop/flower shop kirikami au that was lowkey hilariously fun to write. part of the oct prompt collection

awake me from my nightmare (x) - 2.3k - the only fic i’ve ever tagged with mcd, an among us au of all things. baku&uraraka friendship and betrayal, part of the oct prompt collection

**for the record (x) - 2.1k - shiggy&dabi...allianceship? sort of? lmao they’re angel and demon, spies, and part of like a rebellion thing. and they don’t like each other which is always fun! part of the oct prompt collection

a different kind of hero (x) - 1.1k - established tododeku future fic where todo just got his quirk stolen (and deku already lost his in an afo fight), mostly bitter with just a tiny spark of hopefulness. part of the oct prompt collection

forget me not (x) - 2.1k - kiri&uraraka friendship, amnesia and artist au like i really went off here but it was so sweet and wholesome and i had a great time. part of the oct prompt collection

**lightning in a bottle (x) - 4.5k - chaotic kamibaku getting together but they’re WITCHES it’s a MAGIC AU and BEDSHARING IS A THING. part of the oct prompt collection

passing notes (x) - 1.6k - shiggy&eri friendship which is a thing that would be hilarious if it happened in canon tbh. part of the oct prompt collection

no turning back (x) - 6.5k - shiggy&deku friendship but make it royalty au and a 5/1 trope just for kicks lmao. part of the oct prompt collection

worthy adversary (x) - 1k - baku&shinsou friendship/childhood friends au that deserved more than 1k lmao. part of the oct prompt collection

together (x) - 3.2k - denki&mina friendship but they’re allied with vampires to fight some werewolves bc why not right? also lil taste of shinkami just like tiny bit for the flavor™. i should really do a bit more with this au huh? part of the oct prompt collection

a good thing (x) - 1.2k - shinsou&aizawa friendship? fathership? sonship? u know how it is lmao. a little sprinkle of shinkami for the flavor. part of the oct prompt collection

brighter than the sun (x) - 730 - can u tell i don’t usually write miritama lmao. some soft parallels bc they are soft. part of the oct prompt collection

try again (x) - 1.4k - dabi&shouto siblingship but dabi can time travel bc i said so (actually bc the prompts said so but whatever lmao) part of the oct prompt collection

that’s it lovelies!! nearly 600k this year and some of my favorite fics i’ve ever written, and i cannot begin to thank you all enough for your incredible support, i adore you all so much 🥺🥺🥺🥺

[onthevirgeofdestruction]

Storytime!

Sanders Sides Canon Divergence AU - fluff/angst - hurt/comfort - some intrigue - actually has a plot (side eyes my other fics) - largely Virgil centric - it’s about growth i guess idk

Words: 4,140 Warnings: Fire, Gross things, Fighting, Food, Teasing Characters: Virgil, Patton, Remus, Janus, Roman Universe: Storytime! Genre: Clingy Idiocy

Chapter 25: In Which They Opt to Burn Comic Books Instead of Self-Immolation

Virgil continues to be a clingy idiot tbh touch starved people rejoice

chapter 1 for new readers - ffn mirror

   Virgil woke to a gentle buzzing in his pocket. He blinked the sleep out of his eyes and slowly looked around. He must have not been too deep asleep. He keeps his phone in a gentle setting so it wouldn’t startle him when D needed something. He was somehow still holding Patton on the couch. He was almost impressed with himself. Patton seemed to have woken up to the vibration under him as well, as he looked confused. Virgil gently kissed Patton’s Forehead and he smiled and seemed happy. He watched Patton yawn widely with no sound.

   “Lemme get this, Pat,” Virgil mumbled sleepily and dropped his hood, then fished his phone out of his hoodie pocket from under Patton’s legs. ‘The room is ready. Just shoot the duke a note when you leave. I will be working here alone until then.’ The message said. Attached was a map pin of the mind palace. Oh, he hoped it was Deceit’s study. Virgil loved that fireplace. He could walk right in it was so huge. Something about resting in front of a furnace of death really spoke to his inner goth. He slid his phone back into his hoodie pocket and went back to holding Patton tight.

   “Did you fall asleep with me, Pat?” He asked gently and rocked him.

   “I guess being that spooked wore me out,” Patton said with a little yawn again.

   “Believe me, I’ve been there. But I bet you’ve got other things to do today now that you’re all full up on cuddle power,” Virgil said with another gentle kiss.

   “I do, but it’s so warm and snuggly in here with you,” Patton said and nuzzled into Virgil’s chest.

   “Oh, I can fix that,” Virgil said with a laugh.

   “What do you mean ‘fix that’?” Patton asked apprehensively.

   “I can make it not warm anymore,” Virgil said and released a little chill of anxiety. Patton suddenly shivered and looked shocked.

   “Boo!” Patton whined in objection. “Wait, do you have ice powers like Elsa?” Patton asked with wide, curious eyes as he took the blanket and crawled out of Virgil’s now chilly lap.

   “I wish, but no,” Virgil said with a laugh and pulled Patton in and kissed his cheek. Virgil backed up and saluted Patton. “I’m just the boogeyman,” He said with a cackle and sunk out of the room leaving Patton wrapped in a fuzzy blanket and looking more confused than when he woke up with his hand holding his cheek.

   Virgil rose into the location Deceit sent and summoned his notepad and wrote ‘f u’ and sent it off to the Duke. It was Deceit’s study, after all, though heavily scaled back. Probably because it was near the edge of the Mind Palace. It was less of a library/study and had more empty space and empty walls. The desk and Deceit’s big wingback chair was still there, and so was Virgil’s favourite fireplace and rug. But Deceit added a black leather loveseat with side tables on either end. Virgil summoned a big, fluffy throw blanket to cover the chair, just in case the duke was nasty again. Virgil walked over to Deceit’s desk where he worked and waited. After a pause, Deceit looked up at Virgil.

   “The throw was a terrible call,” Deceit said casually. Virgil stepped around the desk and held open his arms expectantly, and Deceit nodded, sighing. Virgil came over and wrapped his arms around Deceit for a moment and kissed his scaled cheek, then rubbed his cheek to it.

   “Thanks for everything, D. I think you’re my favourite, too,” Virgil breathed and smirked at Deceit’s slight flush on the human half of his face.

   “Have you been a menace?” Deceit asked with a distracted cough.

   “The worst,” Virgil smirked. “I mostly took a nap with Pat,” Virgil added quietly. “But I think it’s nicer to sleep with something else cool-blooded,” Virgil said with a coquettish smile. “I’ll try not to rile up the duke, but I get it if you have to kick us out,” Virgil said with a nod and let Deceit go. Virgil summoned a little pile of comic books and two pairs of headphones as he walked over to the table and loveseat and dropped them on the table. He put the headphones in a splitter and hung a music player from the back of the big chair and laid back to enjoy some Batman.

   Remus landed so suddenly next to him in the loveseat that Virgil jumped up in surprise and hissed. He punched Remus in the arm who smiled widely and punched right back. A strong smell punched Virgil in the face, and he shook his head in confusion. Strawberries?

   “Ream, you chose something that smells good!” Virgil said in surprise and lowered his headphones. “Is that your way of flirting?” Virgil asked with a little breezy snicker.

   “No, my way of flirting involves tentacle ooze and me and my date ending up on fire!” Remus said with a laugh and grabbed a volume of Deadpool.

   “Well, warn a side, so I can make myself a fire-and-ooze proof suit,” Virgil said and started to pull his headphones back on. “Hey, I don’t suppose you can summon food? I can only make drinks,” Virgil asked as he dropped his headphones midway. Remus laughed and held a plate of what looked like worms and bloody goose livers. “Oh god, send that off! That’s fucking gross,” Virgil said and sputtered slightly. “What do you want to drink?… And if it’s like expired pigs’ milk or something, I’m not fucking making it,” Virgil stuck his tongue out and grimaced in disgust.

   Remus rolled his eyes. “If I wanted to drink cornea juice, I’d summon it myself,” Remus said haughtily. Virgil shuttered at the concept of juicing eyeballs. “I’ll take a rum and coke,” He said, surprisingly reasonably. Virgil summoned a highball glass and tapped the side of the rim and it filled with skull ice cubes and the drink requested.

   “I can’t make, like top-shelf rum or anything, but it’s good enough for the likes of you,” Virgil said teasingly and handed the duke the glass. Virgil summoned himself a tea latte. He paused for a moment and then remembered to summon coasters, handing the duke one and placing one on his side table to put his latte on. “If we make a mess in here, we will get strung up, so please reign in that need till you get back to your room,” Virgil asked with exasperation. Remus unexpectedly just nodded and leaned up against Virgil and started reading. Virgil took a deep breath and settled down. He was a little baffled by the duke being reasonable for once, but maybe Deceit told him to be less of a shit head in here.

   Virgil put down his comic on the side table, seeing that Remus obviously wanted to cuddle again, and grabbed and yanked Remus closer on to him, and punched him in the arm. Remus smiled widely and punched back. They both laughed and started wrestling on the couch, the duke dropping his copy of Deadpool to the ground.

   A loud throat-clearing echoed across the room and they both froze. After a beat they chuckled nervously and Virgil ended up lying across the Duke’s lap and holding himself up on his elbows to read, and the duke sat up with his legs on the table. Virgil straightened the cord on headphones and handed Remus the other pair so he could listen if he wanted. Remus took it, and Virgil grabbed Deadpool off the floor for him and passed it up. Remus also liked his music, and it was one of the few things he never made fun of Virgil for, and it seemed like it was a safe assumption that he wanted to listen after all when he slid the headphones on. Virgil focused back upon his Batman comic and they read together, listening to screaming metal music.

   Virgil had gotten through 2 volumes of Detective Comics and yawned. He reached down and put the volume on the floor with the others and stretched across Remus’s lap.

   “Hey, don’t fall asleep, purple-pus,” Remus said and punched Virgil in the back. Virgil couldn’t really punch back at this angle, so he just groaned.

   “I won’t fall asleep, ooze-for-brains, just let me sit up and get my tea,” Virgil said with another little yawn. Remus punched him in the back again and left him pinned. “Don’t think I’m above freezing your ass. I will totally do it,” Virgil warned. Remus put his Elbows on Virgil’s back and hummed a nonsense tune. Virgil groaned. “You asked for it,” Virgil hissed and let out a powerful wave of anxious chill. Remus yelped and quickly lifted his arms to warm himself. Virgil took the chance and rolled off him to get his latte. He stood next to the couch and shuttered from his own cold.

   “You bitch,” Remus said and shivered, though he didn’t look upset in the least.

   “Takes one to know one,” Virgil said and took his latte to go sit down on the rug in front of the fireplace to warm up. Remus followed him and laid down facing the fire on his stomach, kicking his legs and entranced by watching the flames dance. “You can’t self-immolate in here, I asked,” Virgil said with a laugh and laid down facing up and Remus’s back. Remus groaned in disappointment.

   Virgil rolled to his side and laid lackadaisically across the duke’s back. He sighed and resisted the urge to reach up and jab Remus in the side. He knew they’d get out of hand and stopped himself. He saw Remus’s arm outstretched, and his hand twitched parallel to him and laughed.

   “Are you trying to resist the urge to fight, too?” Virgil asked quietly.

   “I’m innocent!” He blurted and pulled his arm back. “Wait, too?” Remus asked with a chuckle.

   “Yeah, your face is just so damn punchable,” Virgil said with a laugh. “I’m already kind of feeling your intrusive bullshit and it makes me antsy,” Virgil said and got up to grab the comics to move them over. “Hey, know what’s not self-immolation but involves burning stuff? We can chuck the volumes we finished in the fire,” Virgil said and placed the Deadpool stack in front of the duke. Virgil chucked one of the completed Detective Comics in the fire and they both watched it go up quickly, the ink staining the flames as it burned through the thin pages. Remus cheered and threw another one in. All the red in the pages lit up the fireplace.

   They went back to reading, taking breaks to throw comics in the fireplace, and sometimes chatting and showing each other particularly brutal parts in the comics they were reading. Virgil knew Remus would want to see, and he assumed Remus did it because he wanted to see Virgil cringe. But he didn’t mind as long as Remus let him get in a good punch or kick for it.

   “Hey, 8-eyes, it wasn’t that scary, turn off the fucking A/C,” Remus whined as he pulled back his comic. Virgil was paralyzed on the spot. The darkness in the corners grew, and he involuntarily felt himself shake. “Deedee, Your pet spider is freaking the fuck out over here,” He could hear Remus distantly as a static sound overtaking his brain overwhelmed him. “Your pet spider also smells like it’s about to fucking electrocute me and I am pinned by it,” Remus called out again, sounding a little strangled and panicky. Virgil could feel a vague sensation pushing against him, but he couldn’t move. “Though, maybe it could be fun!” Remus’s distant cackling meshed with the voices that were even more overlapped and louder than before. He saw Deceit walk over and Virgil’s mouth was too dry to speak and tell him it started.

   Deceit reached down and placed a hand on Virgil, and his eyes widened. Virgil’s vision waned, and he grabbed his head, trying to block out the loud sounds in his ears. But no matter how hard he pushed, he could still hear their muddled voices just as loudly. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to breathe, but it didn’t feel like enough air came.

   “Virgil, look at my face,” He could make out a voice say. He peeked open one eye and saw Deceit sitting right in front of him. Virgil opened both eyes and glanced around, seeing he was in his own room and sitting on the floor. He couldn’t stop his eyes from looking around wildly and he felt a tight squeeze on his arm. “Virgil, look at my face,” Deceit said again, firmer. “You’re fine. You are not there anymore,” Virgil shivered and leaned into Deceit’s chest. Deceit pulled him in, and they laid back on the floor. Virgil’s breathing went back to normal when he realized the sound and the voices were gone again.

   “Thanks,” Virgil said with a shutter. He felt a tear run down his cheek. “D-do you know what that is?” Virgil asked nervously. 

   “I couldn’t hear anything,” Deceit said calmly. “I just felt the change in environment and saw the shadows,” Deceit said and stroked Virgil’s head. “I think you have about 2 hours you can safely be in there,” He added.

   “I didn’t hurt Remus, Did I?” Virgil asked quietly. There was an amused hiss.

   “He can sleep it off,” Deceit smiled with grim humor. Virgil laughed weakly. Crap, he was having a nice time with Remus and ruined it. And they both needed the break from all the stress Thomas has lately. Hopefully Remus wasn’t too mad at him for fucking it up. Thomas’s stress affects Remus almost as much as it does Virgil. He sighed and felt his stomach growl. 

   “I’m starving,” Virgil trailed off quietly.

   “I’ll summon you something,” Deceit said calmly and sat up to stand. He pulled Virgil with him and deposited Virgil at the table. “What do you want, darling?” Deceit sat next to him and placed his hand on Virgil’s back.

   “Something warm,” he said quietly as he sat down. Deceit summoned him a bowl of hearty stew and hot apple cider. Virgil looked up at Deceit’s face. It was very soft, but there was a pain in his eyes.

   “Will you eat with me?” Virgil asked quietly, dropping against the table, already anticipating his answer.

   “No,” Deceit said calmly and held his stomach.

   “Did I get you, too? I’m so sorry,” Virgil said and grabbed Deceit’s arm before he could protest and pulled as hard as he could. He felt a cold sweat break out on his brow.

   “I would have been fine,” Deceit said in exasperation. Virgil tried to take a deep breath, and a dead sounding laugh broke out of his chest. “It wasn’t very much. I just can’t stay,” Deceit said quietly.

   “Oh, right, my room,” Virgil said with disappointment heavy in his voice. “We could go to yours?” He asked, a little hope sparkling through.

   “I think that’s not the best idea, darling. You need to recover here for now. Eat and take a nap,” Deceit ordered resolutely. He summoned the fat snake plush Virgil left on his bed. “I’ll keep an eye on you,” He said, pointing at his snake eye and clearly trying to placate Virgil. What in the world did Virgil accidentally push on Deceit to make him act like this? Virgil nodded, and Deceit, raccoon eyes evident, sunk on the spot. Virgil reached out and grabbed the snake plush from the table and held it with one arm while he slowly ate with the other.

   Virgil woke up from the nap feeling much better than earlier. He was still fuzzy and weird, but it didn’t matter much as long as he had a better handle on himself. He yawned and stretched out and crawled off the couch. He was still hungry, so he summoned some fruit juice and downed it. It wasn’t the same. He threw the glass in frustration and it disappeared mid-air. It felt like it had been so long since he was last alone. Not knowing what to do with himself, Virgil flopped down and scrolled Tumblr on the couch. Seeing the cool fan art and the friendly comments were awesome. Virgil also liked to keep track of the mean comments. Just in case. While scrolling Tumblr, a red shield sticky note fell on his face.

   Virgil rose into Roman’s room right away and immediately tackled Roman where he stood. He was glad he didn’t have to sit alone any longer after this afternoon's debacle. 

   “I missed you,” Virgil whined and rubbed his face against Roman’s tunic and squeezed Roman’s arms to his side, trapping him. Roman chuckled awkwardly and slightly tried to shift under his arms.

   “It hasn’t been that long, panic station,” Roman said with a soft laugh. “Are you going to let me out?”

   “If I let you go, you might leave,” Virgil groaned.

   “You’re in my room!” Roman said with a laugh and struggled under Virgil’s arms again. Virgil groaned and squeezed again. “C’mon, Virge, this hurts,” Roman winced. Virgil let go of him and rolled off of him, lying flat on the floor and whining incoherently while Roman sat up and took a deep breath. Roman leaned over Virgil’s face and smiled sardonically. Virgil stopped and stared up at him in confusion. Then Roman punched him hard, right in the face.

   “What the fuck?” Virgil said, holding his cheek and glaring at Roman’s smug smile.

   “I win. Come on, you clingy weirdo, couch,” Roman commanded with a chuckle. “And that’s an order,” Roman added with a wink and laughed. Virgil chuckled with a little embarrassment and followed Roman over. Roman yanked Virgil in when he got close and Virgil latched on.

   “What are we up to then, Sir?” Virgil said with a catty smirk. Roman flushed slightly. Virgil made a face. That wasn’t enough payback for the teasing or the guerilla victory. He’d have to come up with something else.

   “First, why don’t you tell me why you’re being a little extra crazy today?” Roman asked and brushed Virgil’s hair out of his face. Virgil shook his head, and the bangs came back.

   “Excuse me, I was informed in the past that I needed that to be an emo nightmare,” Virgil said and tried to smack Roman in the arm, but Roman caught him. “I’m still mad you got the drop on me again,” Virgil whined. “Let me punch you back,”

   “I refuse. I already won,” Roman chided light-heartedly. “Though, I’m not convinced you couldn’t just throw me across the room if you really tried,” He mused.

   Virgil pulled his lips into a thin line and looked away. “I’m not supposed to,” He mumbled.

   “What do you mean you’re not supposed to?” Roman asked inquisitively.

   “Woah, when did Logan get here,” Virgil said and rolled his eyes. Roman huffed and made a face.

   “How dare- That's off subject," Roman quickly caught himself in his righteous indignation and settled back down. “Well, then, what else are you not supposed to do?” Roman asked.

   “I’m too hungry for this,” Virgil whined. “And full of blood lust!” Virgil laughed and tried to punch Roman again but he stopped him once more.

   “Quit trying to attack me and I’ll summon you some tacos,” Roman offered and rolled his eyes dramatically.

   “Oh, yeah. Deal,” Virgil conceded quickly.

   “So tell me why you’re being a little weirdo,” Roman said and held up his hand, a silver platter appearing on top of it.

   “I am the weirdo, Mister,” Virgil semi-quoted The Craft and reached up for the tacos, but Roman pinned him with his other arm. Roman just raised his eyebrow. “Come on, I’m starving,” Virgil whined and reached for the platter again.

   “I can send this away,” Roman said punitively. Virgil moaned in objection.

   “My prince is letting me wither to nothing,” Virgil said and curled up on himself in Roman’s lap.

   “You don’t need food, disaster emo,” Roman said with a bit of frustration.

   “I do,” Virgil whined. “I’m wasting away. You know I can’t tell you,” Virgil said, rolling his eyes.

   “I don’t know what,” Roman said, raising his eyebrows again.

   “You’d be mad at me,” Virgil said quietly.

   “Well, now I have to know,” Roman said with curiosity in his voice.

   “Other than the stress of all the work eating away at me?” Virgil asked hesitantly. Roman nodded, and Virgil groaned. “I, uh, I went back to the mind palace,” Virgil said, trying to sound as dismissive as possible.

   “What, you went there again? After last time?” Roman said and held his arms and wouldn’t let him cross them.

   “See?” Virgil frowned and drooped his shoulders.

   “Well, you got out. You won’t, like, puke or whatever the heck that was again, will you?” Roman eyed Virgil suspiciously.

   “No, I’m fine. Maybe,” Virgil shrugged. “Other than my acute lack-of-taco-itis,” Virgil whined and reached again for the platter. Roman groaned and lowered the platter for him. There were a few tacos with little wax paper wraps on each. Virgil greedily grabbed for one and Roman laid the platter on the back of the couch and grabbed one for himself. Virgil finished one and yawned heavily, rubbing his head against Roman’s chest again.

   “What are you, a cat?” Roman asked humorously with a lop-sided smirk.

   “Yes, I require pets and I know I’m better than you,” Virgil said and reached out for another taco. Roman stopped him.

   “Ah-ah, I need another fact for another taco,” Roman said with a rising inflection. Virgil pouted and crossed his arms.

   “About what, exactly?” Virgil asked cautiously, leaning back. “I’m taking my killer recipe for nightmare bacon to the grave,” Virgil joked airily. Roman laughed, and that made Virgil smile in satisfaction.

   “Something interesting about yourself,” Roman said temptingly, raising his eyebrows and the taco plate higher.

   “I’m starting to think you’re very cute when you’re stubborn,” Virgil teased and leaned up to kiss Roman’s cheek. Roman flushed and the arm holding up the tacos wavered. That’s better. Now they were even. “Luckily for me, that’s almost all the time,” Virgil added with a chuckle.

   “That’s not the kind of fact I’m talking about. And I’m not always stubborn,” He objected with a slight pout.

   “Oh, no! You’re getting cuter by the second! I’ve never stood a chance! You’ve basically got a giant bow on your head!” Virgil cried in mock distress and angled his head up to nuzzle Roman’s neck. Roman shivered, and the tacos lowered, but Virgil didn’t care much about them anymore. He had some food and now required cuddles. Maybe he was a cat. Virgil tittered to himself.

   “Virgil, quit being mean,” Roman said with a flush, pushing Virgil away slightly.

   “I’m not being mean, I’m being a cuddle monster who wants more contact,” Virgil said, waiting patiently at the distance Roman pushed him away, though crossing his arms. Roman looked at him, confused for a moment before he slowly lowered the tacos to the table. Virgil waited for Roman to finish his dramatics.

   “Why do you suddenly not care about the tacos? You said you were starving,” Roman asked carefully.

   “This is better than food,” Virgil purred and smiled mischievously at him.

   “You want-” Roman started.

   “Can I come back to the cuddle or not, Princey?” Virgil asked with a pout. Roman just nodded wide-eyed and Virgil quickly latched on around his neck, pulling Roman in. Roman wrapped his arms around Virgil. Virgil said softly and ran his hand through Roman’s perfect hair, messing it up just to pay him back for messing with his. Virgil gave him a toothy grin and Roman rolled his eyes at him and the remote flew into his hand. Roman flipped through the options and held on to Virgil with the other. He seemed a little annoyed, but the hug didn’t end. That just meant Virgil won in the end.

   Virgil angled to watch the TV when Roman finally picked a movie and summoned his bucket of popcorn. He offered Virgil a piece and tossed it into Virgil’s open mouth. Roman hummed with satisfaction when the popcorn landed in Virgil's mouth. They focused on the TV and relaxed, finally. Virgil didn’t even realize he needed this until he felt himself slowly loosen up. Virgil nuzzled against Roman and he rubbed Virgil's back in return but didn't take his eyes off the movie. Virgil sighed in relief and stole a piece of popcorn out of habit as he watched the colorful nonsense on the TV.

tags: @itsaamood-33 @elizabutgayer

[ol-razzle-dazazzle]

hi! if you're still accepting recs, might I suggest a chuuatsu coffeeshop au? if you're looking for tone, I'm thinking specifically about the cover of 'falling in love in a coffeeshop' done by daniela andrade, but feel free to do what you like. I hope you're feeling better ❤

Heya, sorry this was really late ‘orz I kept getting stuck. Anyway, I had a ton of fun with this, and I hope you do too! I didn’t lace in the lyrics like I did with my la vie en rose soukoku, but I hope you like it!

Falling in love in a coffee shop- Chuuatsu

Canon divergence- Atsushi manages to get a job at a shitty cafe after being kicked out of his orphanage.

——————

It was a cold misty morning, fog from outside beckoned to billow in through the windows, and there was no one to me found. The hiss was the only thing Atsushi heard on such mornings- the hiss of a coffee machine and the rustle of his apron against his clothes. Out of the general 20+ hours a day he spent here, these were the quiet ones. The ones that gave him small repose, even if that came with the dread that his already underpaid salary wasn’t helped by these hours of silence.

Atsushi was taught to count his blessings like tips- small, insignificant but he was to see them as only the greatest in the world- grovelling over generosity. When he was kicked out of the orphanage, that was someone slapping his already meagre pocket change- scattered to the floor and unable to pick up. He was lucky. He was lucky to find a job, even if it was underpaid, even if his boss yelled at him, even if… Mist gathered in his eyes. The coffee was ready. Bagged eyes picked followed the process, hopefully no one actually checked the cameras and he could eat and drink stock.

He sat behind the counter, drinking it slipped sip by slipped sip, no one was here anyway, and the worst that could happen is he’d be on the street again, right? I mean, it’s not like anyone would be here, let alone kill him over-

The slam open of the door startled Atsushi, spilling his forbidden coffee. A man was leaning against the counter, suit sliced with slight tatters. It wouldn’t be the strangest thing…? “Can I take your order?” “Short black. Do you…have a chair?” Something made Atsushi move against his robotic movements of a cog in a consumerist machi- this metaphor is too depressing.

The slight burn in his shirt didn’t register, as he went over the counter, settling the other man down in a slider. “Yes. There is.” It only registered how stupid the question and answer was after, as the admittedly short man glanced around. “Does anyone come here? Is this some shitty meeting place for gangs or something?” The words unsettled Atsushi like a white suburban mom with a bowl cut. “N-No?” Atsushi shook his head. “I’m here for the majority of the time, and it’s safe.”

The hiss of mist was heard again, but accompanied over the inaudible grumbles of the man before him. “Uh…what name is it under?” “Chuuya.” “Okay then…” Atsushi scrawled his name, setting the coffee next to him, and sitting opposite him.

“Amazing…” “O-Oh, is it that good?”“I haven’t drank it. This,” he pointed at the name, “The only time someone’s ever gotten two u’s, I’ve had some idiot have an 'o’ thrown in there.” “Really? I’ve never seen you around here…”“I’m around the other side of the city.” “I hear that’s so dangerous though…” Perhaps that explained the rips in his jacket…“I’m here searching for something.” A sip.“What?”“Good coffee.” “That’s all?”“No, I was just saying- a side note.” And Atsushi heard something strange- a laugh. The light sound reminded him of how long it’s been since he’s heard anything denoting happiness.

“Hey, is there anyone outside?” Atsushi glances out, “No, it’s like…4 in the morning, why?”“There’s a stain on your shirt.” Chuuya points out, getting out of the seat. “Oh jeez, there is!” A gratuitous flush of coloured embarrassment flit to his face, even for himself. “I’m so sorry!” A dismissal hand, “It’s fine, you probably have a few hours to wash it-” A sigh couldn’t help but escape Atsushi, more pocket change to give on already meagre scrapings. “Anyway…I have to get going, Atsushi.” Chuuya sets a five on the table, swiping the cup and giving a short smile, before leaving. Atsushi’s eyes widened, and for a fleeting moment, he felt a compulsion to talk more to Chuuya. “W-Wait!” He calls out, getting the other’s attention. “Yes…?”

“Uh…how did you know my name?” “You…” Chuuya was caught slightly off guard by the question, staring at Atsushi. He stifles his laughter, “It’s on your name tag, I can’t believe I forgot that.” Flushed face to flushed face, “I…can’t believe I forgot that too!” That intoxicating laugh again, as the two slowly parted.

*****

“So…what are you looking for? I’m surprised you came back again.” Atsushi was wiping down tables, it was later (earlier) at night, and the presence before him was perplexing.

“A tiger.” It wouldn’t exactly be best to tell him he’s a mafiosi, “For two unreasonable children, they want one that’s been going around town.” The Windex bottle clattered to the floor.

“You alright?” Chuuya steps over, picking it up and settling it on the table, setting a hand on Atsushi’s shoulder- perhaps to get ready to throw him to the floor (at least that would be his first reflex for doing such a thing, but that surprisingly didn’t come to mind). “O-Of course.” A stammering lie. So it was him…

“You didn’t wash your shirt from last time I came here, the stain’s still there.” Chuuya points out. “I…” Atsushi’s nerves only increased, before a sigh. “I don’t have the money to get it laundered yet- it’s quiet around this time of year.”

“Why do you work here?” “Why do you come here? If it’s so awful?”“I’ve…” The question stops Chuuya. “I’ve always had an acquired taste.” For old coffee shops with weretigers, is not exactly what he would have in mind. “I don’t have any other option.”“You do.” Chuuya sets his money on the counter, however, tipping Atsushi would only sully the meaning in his words.

*****

“I have a job for you.” Chuuya sets some papers down.“A coffee?”“Yes. Well no. Both.” The mafiosi sighs. “Look, I can’t stand coming by here all the time to see this beautiful perso-” “what was that” “to see you, practically living on brown sugar.”“It’s not that bad, I get white and macro-” “Atsushi.” A sideways glance. “Look, don’t worry, this cat’s in the ba- it’s in the bag. Practically 100% chance of getting it.” Atsushi looks over it, something about a detective agency? He slowly glances up, “You look worried.”“I’m not.” “Then what is it?”Chuuya grits his teeth, face colouring with frustration. “Look, just trust me alright? This wasn’t easy to do, he is a very mentally taxing person-” probably not the best impression. “For me, that is.”“So…what do I do?”“The same you always do- survive, maybe make some coffee, all that.”“And when do I see you?” Chuuya looks up at those eyes, a pang of loneliness gripping onto him, to drink in the sight of those eyes and the warmth of coffee that he might never see again. “I…don’t work for them myself, but…” He could be a little selfish, couldn’t he? “Can we meet up here, every so often? I mean, it’s an old place, but…” I want to be with you. “S-Sure. Thank you.” A prompt nod. “It…means a lot to me.”

*****

Chuuya fondly adjusts Atsushi’s tie. “Nervous?” “O-Of course!”“Don’t be stupid, I’m the one who should be nervous, I can’t let anyone from there see me!” A gentle punch on the shoulder. “Look, you’ll be fine. I promise you, that somehow, somewhere there’ll always be someone there for you.” A sigh, “I got some back home, but even you- you have no clue, but I was just about to be killed, and I crawled in there and you were there…” this is getting incomprehensible… “Just…you can make it, okay?”Atsushi stared at him, a deer in the headlights of…life. Chuuya stepped back, unaware of the close proximity, all too late to press those coffee-tinted lips against his own.“Okay that was a terrible, horrible speech but…how are you now?”A response was a granted wish, of those lips on his. Perhaps it was a rush of adrenaline, but their arms rushed for a tender hug, warm and enveloping like an espresso on the coldest of nights. “Better.” A wink, as Atsushi walked up those stairs. Chuuya could only help but be lovestricken.

*****

“You look a lot nicer in that suit, I have to say I have nice taste.” A gentle sip of coffee, again in that warm tone of a rustic (probably rusting) cafe. “Do you just wear the same thing every day though?”“I…like it.” Atsushi tightens the tie, glancing at Chuuya. “But thank you, again.”“It’s fine. I’m just glad you’re still alive.” Chuuya takes a sip, trying to dismiss his thoughts. “My last memory of you would be you kissing me before a job interview.” Well, he never was one to beat around the bush.“I-I mean, part of it was a bravery thing…”“Part of it?”“The other part…well…I wanted to do that for a while.” A sigh lost on a clear day. “You know, you have to count your blessings like pocket change.”“And you cashed in everything, all or nothing?”A shared laugh. “I guess you could say that.”Chuuya glanced around, before sitting next to Atsushi on the slider, the two sharing a warm kiss. Perhaps this was meant to be a fleeting moment like the high of coffee, maybe it could be something more, but one thing was for certain.“This coffee shop still sucks.”

[damienthepious]

>:3c hey i got two this week. happy LKT babes!!

Scattered On My Shore (Chapter 3)

[Ch 1] [Ch 2] [ao3] [Ch 4] [Ch 5] [Ch 6] [Ch 7] [Ch 8] [Ch 9] [Ch 10] [Ch 11] [Ch 12] [Ch 13] [Ch 14] [Ch 15] [Ch 16] [Ch 17] [Ch 18] [Ch 19]

Fandom: The Penumbra Podcast

Relationship: Lord Arum/Sir Damien/Rilla, Sir Damien/Rilla

Characters: Rilla, Lord Arum, Sir Damien

Additional Tags: Second Citadel, Lizard Kissin’ Tuesday, Pre-Relationship, (for the three of them. it’s established r/d), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Injury, Injury Recovery,  Hurt/Comfort,  (this will also be), Enemies to Lovers, (for damien and arum eventually lol)

Fic Summary: Strange things wash up out of the lake near Rilla’s hut, on occasion. But this monster… this monster is certainly the strangest.

Chapter Summary: Sir Damien and Rilla discuss the issue at hand.

Chapter Notes: did u want: canon typical Damien spiraling? <3

~~

Arum is stable, the offending injury has been cleaned again and sealed and dressed and hopefully, hopefully, this time it will actually start to heal. Rilla’s mind buzzes, exhaustion and adrenaline and the satisfaction of a problem solved. That little shard of black talon (definitely talon, now that she’s seen it up close; add the satisfaction of a called shot, too) is safely and carefully stashed away in a clean sealed vial for later analysis, where it can’t do any more harm. And Arum-

The sedative probably won’t wear off for hours. Probably for the best, considering how exhausted he was before he went under. It’s probably just her imagination, just wishful thinking, but he looks… calmer. Like his sleep is more restful, now, than it had been. Imagination or no, she takes some satisfaction in that, too.

Rilla washes her hands, splashes her face, and when she meets her own eye in the little mirror above her washbasin she sees the bags under her eyes and the hair clouding around her face and the manic tilt to her expression and she- laughs.

Damien. Oh, Damien-

What the hell is she going to do about him?

She could be irritated with him just for coming into her exam room, whether or not the door was locked, but- well, it’s not like he wouldn’t have some rule breaking to throw back in her face. She sighs, dragging her palm over her mouth and noting the visible exhaustion that’s making her shoulders sag.

Well. No point putting it off, right?

She checks on Arum one more time, resettling the blankets more securely around his shoulders, ensuring that he’s warm enough, leaving a cup of water beside the bed in case he wakes before she does (whatever happens with Damien, however she gets him out of her hair, she’s going to get some sleep after this, she needs to).

Dead asleep, still, but- he mutters something, some whispery wordlessness as the back of her hand presses to his forehead to make sure his temperature is still consistent, and the breathy murmur and the way his resting expression goes even softer makes Rilla gently smile before she can help herself, and her brain is still buzzing as she thinks, rest well, you ridiculous monster, and heal.

She steps away from the cot, and she sighs, then. This next part is going to be unpleasant.

Damien is pacing in a straight line when she exits the exam room, turning on his heel to keep going in the same stuck path before he registers that she’s joining him, and then his eyes widen.

“Oh my heart, you are safe! Oh, my dearest Rilla, I was terrified that you had been- I felt only moments from bolting in to ensure that you had not been-”

“Damien. I wasn’t in danger,” she says, keeping her voice low and gesturing for Damien to follow her as she steps away from the door to the exam room, away from the possibility of waking Arum accidentally. Her hut isn’t that big, and it’s not like they could have this conversation outside, but they can at least stand in the kitchen, a little ways away where they won’t literally be shouting (she assumes they’ll end up shouting, frankly) so damn close to Arum.

“I know you are terribly brave, my love,” Damien says as he stumbles behind. “But surely even you must understand- I do not know what sort of- of experiment you are intending to run, but I must advise-”

“He’s not an experiment,” Rilla growls, bristling because she already, already regrets the brief window during which she… did kind of think of him that way. He deserves better than that.

“Regardless, regardless of the why, it cannot continue, surely you must understand that. The danger- the danger the creature presents, to yourself, to any other patients you may have, to the Citadel itself! Rilla surely you can see that it must be destroyed-”

“You’re not touching him, Damien. He’s my patient-”

“It is a monster-”

“Yeah, I gathered that Damien, thanks, but you still aren’t touching him. He’s my patient, and he’s one of a kind, and he’s not gonna hurt me. If he wanted to, he definitely already would have tried something. He’s still weak as hell but he’s stubborn and he would have tried, if he really wanted.”

“Of course the monster wants to hurt you, my precious flower. That is simply what monsters do.”

Rilla scowls hard, turning away from him to pull the curtains aside, realizing with no small degree of wonder that it’s dark outside again. Already. Already? Before she woke Arum to discuss pulling the talon out, she’s sure it couldn’t have been much past sunrise. Saints she needs to sleep. But before she can-

“Damien, I’m gonna put this as simply as I can. He is my patient. That means that it’s my job to take care of him, and to make sure he’s safe and that his injuries are treated. I’m finally at a point where I’m making progress, and-”

“Finally,” Damien echoes, his brow furrowing as his thoughts churn. “Finally? How long have you- how long has this been going on, precisely?”

“Few days,” Rilla says, noncommittal. She- she isn’t quite sure, anymore. She’s been keeping hourly notes, coded longhand, but she’d put it on pause for the surgery, and-

“So,” he says, sounding pained, “when I came to you last, and asked-”

“I lied,” she says flatly. “I lied, because I knew you would respond like this.”

“I am attempting to do my duty, my love. I must protect you and every citizen of the Citadel, must cleanse the monsters' blight upon this land-”

“Not this monster,” Rilla says. “Not him. He doesn’t need cleansing.” She grins, a little wildly. “I already disinfected him pretty thoroughly.”

“You cannot jest about this, Rilla. Surely, surely you know I cannot allow this, it is-”

“Treason?”

Damien blanches, his face going vaguely ashen, and his voice is near-mournful when he answers. “Rilla, my heart, my forever-flower you know that I would never accuse you of something so vile-”

“Even if it’s technically true?”

Damien’s entire expression freezes, as if she has stabbed him. “You can’t mean that. You wouldn’t-”

“He was hurt, Damien,” Rilla says. “And I’m a doctor. I’m just doing my job, as far as I’m concerned. But I very much doubt that the Citadel will see it that way.”

“He is a monster, my love- he could- he could do anything to you, he could kill you or steal you away or-”

Rilla rolls her eyes. “Or lie in bed complaining about the fact that he’s too weak to even stand. Oh no. Whatever will I do to defend myself against the constant annoyance of monsterkind.”

“Rilla you have seen as well as I have the cruelties done by its ilk, the violence and pain! Any benevolence must be a trick, it must be, meant to lull you into a false sense of safety around such a dangerous beast! A devious machination, meant to make you lower your guard for the moment he will strike and then what, my dearest love? What will happen, when you, with your gentle miraculous healing hands, deliver the beast back to strength enough that he may enact his plan? Oh Saint Damien protect us, what will happen when he has been healed enough to harm again? What then, my Rilla?”

“He’s not gonna hurt me,” Rilla says, entirely dismissive. “He won’t. He-” she interrupts herself with a deep yawn, jaw going wide as tears pop into her eyes. “Oh, Saints. I thought I could have this argument right now but I absolutely can’t, Damien. Can you please just trust me, at least enough not to do anything tonight? Go back to the Citadel and we can talk about this in the morning. Right now, I’ve barely slept since I found him, and now that I think I’ve finally dealt with the worst of it and got him stable- I could really use a frickin’ nap.”

“No,” Damien says, slashing his hand through the air. “No, I refuse to leave you helpless and unprotected while that- that creature-”

“My patient.”

“Awaits a moment of weakness! Awaits a moment of vulnerability, wherein he may creep close and destroy you, or curse you, or- or any number of terrible intentions that could come to pass the very instant your mind is settled into well-deserved rest, my love. I cannot stand idly by while-”

“Oh for Saints’ sake, Damien, he’s sedated. He’s not going to slit my throat in my sleep. I promise.”

“It could all be a trick, Rilla. Even with your brilliant mind- the machinations of monsterkind are often more clever than one would expect, and what if this is all some scheme? You are a genius, my Rilla, the greatest doctor in all of the Citadel, and certainly the monsters at large are aware of your prowess, are aware of how many precious lives you have personally gentled back to the realm of the living after countless heinous beasts have expended their most vicious effort to send them to their grave! A doctor of your skill and status- surely monsterkind must be desperate to remove your ferocious protective presence from thwarting their attempts-”

“Damien. First, please try to keep your volume down. I know this is- stressful for you, but the hut is small and the yelling is- not helpful. Second- it’s really flattering that you think they’d pay that much attention to me but I really think you’re overreacting.” She takes a moment to breathe, then sighs quite deeply. “Look, if you’re so worried about it, you can stay here for the night.” She smiles gently, reaching a hand to cup his cheek. “I’m sure you already had a long day before coming over here. Come to bed with me? If it’ll make you feel better, if it’ll make you feel like I’m safer, you know that I love sleeping with your arms around me-”

“I cannot lie idle and sleeping while such a beast rests but one room over, Rilla! I cannot sleep at all while it remains a threat-”

Rilla sighs and drops her hand. “Fine, Damien, fine. If you don’t want to rest with me, then you don’t have to, but I am going to bed and you are not touching my patient. Understand me?” She glares, and the force of her ire could knock Damien to the floor. His mouth goes dry, his words freezing. “If you undo any of my hard work I will not forgive you for that. Do you understand me? I will not forgive you,” she says in a low voice, and Damien swallows. “I don’t care if you wanna sit and guard the door, that’s annoying but it won’t hurt anything, but don’t you dare interrupt his rest.” She pauses. “Or mine, for that matter. Now if you’ll excuse me, Sir Damien?”

She gives him a tight, angry sort of smile, then excuses herself towards her bedroom, her shoulders already sagging again with the weight of her exhaustion, and Damien’s heart aches for her, aches for her to be safe and rested and in his arms-

But he must do his duty, first. He must protect her.

Damien paces outside the door to the room the monster currently occupies, his mind roiling and racing and terrified, and he whispers low for guidance. Rilla’s hut is not particularly large, and he has learned his lesson many times that if he prays as he naturally wishes to, he will keep his beloved from sleep rather effectively, and he does not wish to anger her any further just now. So: whispers. Saint Damien will hear him just as well, anyway. It is only for the throbbing in his own heart that his volume yearns to rise.

A monster. A monster, and his beloved Rilla so determined to see it healthy again. One of a kind- and certainly that is even more of a danger than if this were some ordinary ogre, is it not? What tricks might this beast possess? He could have any magic, and skill, any trick up his sleeve-

“What if it is is not sleeping?” He whispers, eyes sharp on the door as he paces, compulsively drawing his bow, the curve of it feeling like safety in his hand. “What if it is already scheming, already creeping towards my Rilla’s room?” His volume is rising, he can barely control it, he tries, but the words are a deluge he caught up in, helpless, helpless. “What if it is already crawling close to her bedside while she breathes light and lovely into her pillow and then it smiles a demon’s smile in the dark and it laughs at her precious kindness and then at last it raises a savage claw-”

Damien chokes a breath, pressing a hand hard over his heart and another over his mouth. No. No, he is between the beast and his beloved. He would have seen- he would know. That- that is merely his fear taking him by the throat. He must stand tranquil against it.

“Saint Damien- oh Saint Damien please,” he murmurs low, wringing his hands and trying, oh trying to slow his breathing. “Please your tranquility my Saint, I must be tranquil if I am to keep her safe, as she deserves to be-”

Rilla forbade him from harming her “patient.” Forbade him from disturbing its rest, as absurd as that is (what foul dreams fill a monster’s mind in repose? What passes for peace in such a violent, chaotic creature?). But-

She did not forbid him from entering the room. Did she?

He considers that. He looks to Rilla’s bedroom door, closed tight against him.

No- not closed tight. If he abandons his charge to protect her and goes to lay by her side, he is certain that she will gather him up in her arms and her bed and soon he will be blessed to hold her soft and lightly snoring in his arms. She is angry with him, in some misguided way, but she did not lock the door. She would not lock him out.

She did not lock him out of the room where the monster coils, either, though.

He ponders, for a few moments longer, before the thought springs unbidden again- the monster, slipping off of Rilla’s examination cot, slithering across the floor, up the walls, over the ceiling-

What powers it may have, Damien does not know. Camouflage? The ability to creep, silent? He does know of the viciously sharp claws this creature possesses, the jagged teeth that showed in his slackly open mouth-

What if it is attempting to escape?

Out the window, yes, and then- anywhere. It could slither off to find cohorts, other beasts with which to return, to raze Rilla’s cozy, humble home to the ground. It could slink around the side of the hut, could find another window- Rilla’s window, could insinuate itself back inside and-

Another deep, shaking breath.

No. Even if the creature is silent, Damien will hear the pane of glass shatter, if the creature escapes.

He cannot simply-

Damien cannot-

Every moment it is unoccupied, his mind will spin. It will tumble down into the darkness of catastrophe, will show him newer and darker possibilities, and so long as he does not know, not for certain, what the monster is doing in there, Damien will be trapped by these feelings, these foul potentialities.

He must enter. He must have his eyes on this beast. It cannot possibly harm Rilla nor anyone else, if he has it safely under his scrutiny.

And Rilla did not forbid him from entering.

He has one hand on the knob of the door, one on his bow, and he creaks the wood open. His entire frame tenses for the strike, whether that strike be his own or the leaping of the monster, but no such strike occurs. It is dim, in the room. Dim, and still, and quiet.

It is mostly quiet, anyway. After a pause, the door ajar but not yet passed through, Damien recognizes the slow, soft noise of breath, coming from inside. He frowns, but he supposes that it is better, is it not, to know that the beast is still where he can keep an eye upon it. If he had opened this door and it was still as death, and there were no noises of life whatsoever- certainly that would have been a more frightening outcome.

Damien takes a step, and then another, and he leaves his hand on the knob as he suspiciously enters this shadowed place.

Still, no attack comes. The light pouring in through the doorframe illuminates enough that Damien can see the shape on the cot, a long figure curled slightly on its side, covers shifting slowly above its chest.

The monster breathes.

It is repellent. This creature, this vile thing soft-sleeping here in a room meant for human healing, for care, for the comfort of his lovely Rilla’s talents and compassion, it is abhorrent. And Damien knows that Rilla is compassionate, oh certainly she is, but this- this? Certainly, certainly, love, there must be some limits, mustn’t there?

The monster breathes and sleeps and does not move, and Damien is even more nervous, even more furious than he was before.

He paces, but the sound of his shoes clicking on the floor sets his teeth on edge. What- what if his noise wakes the creature? If it attacks him, certainly it would be justifiable, to retaliate. Of course it would. But-

Rilla warned him not to disturb the creature’s rest.

So, until she wakes again, at least, he will not.

There is a stool, close beside the bed. When he had entered earlier, Rilla had been perched just in front of it with her hands on the beast, as if she had been seated at some point, and slowly edged forward in tension and focus until she had hovered entirely away.

If Damien wishes to sit, he is going to need to come close enough to the beast to take the seat for himself.

He takes each step across the floor as if it could be rigged with traps, as if more monsters might leap from any given shadow. This… proves unjustified. Yet again Damien is unmolested by monstrous intent, and when he comes close by the bed he stares down at the creature.

Evil. Evil made manifest. Long limbs hidden beneath layers of cloth, sharp claws obscured, the angularity of that body made slack and strange by sleep, that reptilian face-

The monster’s mouth hangs just slightly open, the tips of sharp fangs barely, barely visible behind his thin lips, the ridged line of his brow softened, the low light gleaming on his colorful, mottled scales-

Damien’s jaw tightens. He picks up the stool and moves it away from the bed, moves it to the corner nearest the door, and he perches up upon it facing the bed with a hand on his bow and a scowl set on his face.

The monster does not wake for this, either.

He scowls for quite some time, until his cheeks are a little bit sore. Then he settles into a glare, his determination too strong to be unsettled by boredom. This is only a trick, regardless of the way this creature looks- fragile, curled there on Rilla’s examination cot. More of his scales are bandaged than not, from what Damien saw earlier, when Rilla was working upon him, and the frill at his neck is nearly in tatters, one of his elegantly curved horns cracked (Damien wonders if that is the sort of thing that heals- not that this creature will have time to find that out, of course), and even despite the undeserved serenity of sleep this monster looks exhausted.

A trick. All of it a trick, of course.

… but a very, very convincing one.

[->]