#i feel like i need to draw up one or several charts to piece it all together now

[fictional-worlds-are-exquisite]

i swear i understood the angel maker/the half burnt house by alex north WHILE reading it but now looking back and trying to explain how everything connects i feel like my brain is shattering

[loveemagicpeace]

⭐️🎸Astrology Notes🌙🫧

Men's who has capricorn in personal planets grow up faster and they mature earlier. They have more energy, a father, a guardian. They are very responsible and serious. These are the fathers who will do anything for their child and want to do things right. They are very careful and do not get into something if they do not see a future here and are also more focused on themselves and their work.

Sagittarius rising- in reality they are very sad people inside. They make the best jokes and you will always feel positive and happy with them, but they often wear a mask that they show to others, but only to the people they trust the most, or sometimes even to those they don't. In their sidereal chart they have scorpio rising which means that this makes their interior very deep and emotional but hidden from the outside world.

Scoprio rising mixed with Gemini, will be very open, talkative and talk a lot. Geminis like to talk about things, they are curious, and sometimes they say more than they should. Therefore, such a person can betray many secrets of other people without realizing it or feeling a bad conscience.

I think a men who has mars in 8th house in very mysterious. This position is often marked by deep passions, transformative energy, and a mysterious aura. Men with Mars in the 8th house are driven by a deep and intense passion in all areas of their lives. Sex is very important part of him. There is often a strong desire for power and control, especially over shared resources, emotional connections, and even other people. He can often be subject to jealousy and intense behavior. But he doesn't show it from the beginning. I noticed that many times they test the other person's behavior and that they want to know their step.

Chiron sextile Ascendant-People naturally feel drawn to you when they need emotional support because you emanate a sense of understanding and compassion. This aspect suggests that you've likely experienced deep emotional or psychological wounds in your life, but you have learned to grow from them. Through facing and overcoming your struggles, you've gained a deeper understanding of yourself, which you can share with others. With this aspect, you are deeply empathetic, often able to sense the pain or struggles of others without them having to say much. There's a tendency to be drawn toward others who need healing, and you may feel a strong urge to help them. While Chiron sextile Ascendant often means you are aware of your wounds, it's important not to overly identify with them or let them define you.

Chiron trine Ascendant-People may feel comfortable opening up to you about their struggles, as your own experiences with pain or hardship have made you empathetic and understanding. You tend to present yourself as authentic and vulnerable, which draws people in and makes them feel connected to you. You aren't afraid to show your scars or talk about your past difficulties, and this openness makes you relatable and trustworthy. You tend to attract people who need healing or who have been wounded in similar ways as you. You'll need to be mindful of not taking on too much of other people's pain, as this can lead to burnout or emotional exhaustion.

I have noticed with Virgos, especially when someone has them in their personal planets, that they are minimalist in terms of style, clothes, etc. Let's say: they buy one piece and then combine the whole outfit with this piece. They often buy in pieces and are usually always color coordinated and never wear more than 2 colors.

If u don't have 5th house synastry with another person at all probability they will not have children. Because this is the house that represents children, childbirth, etc. And when you don't share this house with someone, you don't even see the desire to have children with that person, and the focus is usually on several other things.

The 4th house represents a family (but it does not necessarily represent a family with children. It is more of a home that you want to create for yourself or with your partner, and when you share this house with someone, there are also more chances that you will create a home together and also aspects with the moon indicate that you and the person can move together.

People who have many virgo placements or 6th houses often vomit. They are very prone to vomiting and have a sensitive stomach. They are very sensitive to new food (for example, if they try food that they have never tried before, it can quickly affect their stomach). They usually do not tolerate alcohol well. And they usually don't drink a certain drink or eat a certain food because it just doesn't suit them.

Difference between libra sun and libra rising - libra sun are more proud in love and when it comes to love. They are decisive about what they want and who they want in love. Because they are ruled by the sun and that is their ego and they can have a bigger ego. But they are also very serious, stable, always looking for some stability in love. Many differences, their view of love is completely different. Libra rising are sometimes too indecisive and in love with the idea of love. Maybe sometimes the idea that they can have someone and sometimes that's why they come across the wrong partner. They have to be more careful with who they get involved with, because they have an Aries in the 7th house and they can get a partner who ends up taking a lot away from them. When you're with someone who has the same sun as you, they have the same ego about the same things, so sometimes it's good if your sun is different from your partner's. Let's say: libra & libra sun will both have egos when it comes to love. Taurus & taurus sun are stubborn about values, money, materialism, changes.

Venus in Capricorn people if they really love you, they will stay and won't let you go. If they don't see a future with you, they won't stay with you for long (because they don't like to waste time). Which means that if they see you for several months, they see a future. Also they are not complicated. They appreciate mature people and intelligent people. They like people who have self-respect. But they are very careful in love.

It is very important to have compatible mercury in synastry. Because that's how you can find a common language. And you can mentally connect with someone in a more deep way. When you have a different mercury, it means that you and the person find it difficult to find a common language.

When you have 12th house placements you are more connected to your subconscious world. You feel things much more. You can manifest things faster and you can connect more with your other world.

2nd house shows that you value a lot of material things. And that when someone buys you a gift or anything, you always save it and have it with you.

Saturn in the eighth resists transformations, which is why the older astrologers associated this placement with a difficult death. It is not so much a sign of a difficult death as of resistence to the idea of any kind of change.

In contrast, the ninth house symbolizes those mental functions that reach out to deal with whatever is not routine or day-to-day. It is the house through which come new ideas, perceptions, and modes of thinking: a house of consciousness expansion. This is also universal house, which means that people with this placements are more connected to the universe. It is traditionally associated with long journeys, as opposed to the short journeys of the third. Long journeys place one in an unfamiliar situation and hence expand ones consciousness.

The tenth house signifies all relationships between oneself and another in which there is inequality: where one person plays a dominant role to the other, who explicitly or implicitly takes the role of a child or dependent. The essence of such a relationship is that the person taking the dominant role teaches or guides the other. The inequality inherent in these relationships is usually normal and proper rather than pathological. The superior knowledge of the guide figure and the guidance being given are useful and necessary to the one receiving them. Saturn as chart ruler represents in your life some guidelines. He sends you people who are like "saturn people" who give you some advice or teach you something. A reason to better understand life. Saturn gives you hints on how to find what you are looking for and how to achieve it.

When you have Cancer Moon, you will always remember your entire life from early childhood to adulthood. As if to browse the memory back and forth and relive the feelings of that moment. You also have a strong intuition. And you are emotionally quick to judge people, and your memory is essentially an emotional impression. You will remember the feeling of a person, an event, things and happenings. Memories leave an emotional imprint on your heart. Unlike, say, the Capricorn Moon, they are a practical sign. They will always remember how much you did for them, time is very important to them, how much time you took for them (especially they remember actions). An air moon like, for example, a Gemini, they give a lot to communication, words and will remember events based on what someone told them. Then we have a fiery moon, say Sagittarius moon. They will remember their energy and experience feelings based on the energy that the person gives them

🎸For personal readings u can sign up here: https://snipfeed.co/bekylibra 🎸

-Rebekah🦋🌙🫧

[rp-commandersignas]

Commander Signas as a Pokemon!

Related to [this post.]

I was originally planning on making him a Staraptor, but I felt like their aggressive nature and reckless fighting style conflicted with Signas's more cautious and calculating way of doing things. I also felt like a more brain-focused pokemon would suit his personality better, so I chose Beheeyem in the end. In a way, him having a giant head and smaller body also fits since his mind is his greatest strength.

The only thing I don't like about Beheeyem is the fact that they can tamper with people's memories however they please. Like... This thing could ruin your life. 😨 Luckily, Signas would recognize the damage he could potentially cause with this power, so he'd hold back a lot when using it. I can imagine that the most he'd do is make a foe forget that they saw him, or temporarily forget who he is so they'd leave him alone.

Also, one thing you may notice about him is that he's a shiny. This was actually an accident on my part. When I was first imagining him in my head I was like: "I'll just make his eyes blue to make him more recognizable." Then I found out that shiny Beheeyem *also* has blue eyes, so I decided to go the rest of the way with his colors.

As for how he'd behave in a story (set in the Mystery Dungeon world), I think Signas would be the least alarmed out of all my muses, but he'd also have a million questions. When he'd wake up on the beach with the others, he would stay completely calm and begin analyzing his new surroundings. I think he would be the first to get his bearings, and he would be able to gather several facts about about their current environment using his calculations. I even imagined him using the shadows to calculate the circumfrence of the planet at some point, and finding that it's somewhat smaller than the Earth. Overall, his intellect would be exactly the same as when he was a reploid, but now he'd be able to read minds, and even look into people's memories with a bit of concentration. He'd also have the odd habit of raising his arms and flashing his lights in sequences every time he'd talk to people telepathically. Nobody can understand the code except for him though (which is innate knowledge for this pokemon species). I'm not really sure whether he'd translate this secret code for others or not, but knowing him, he'd more likely keep it a secret.

I also think that even though General would be in the 'party,' Signas would kinda end up as the leader in the beginning since he'd already have a clear plan of action. He'd also be a source of stability for the others - who would definitely be pretty confused by this whole situation. Also, due to his investigative nature, he'd often go out of his way to ask questions and learn more information about this new world. I can imagine him mainly trying to piece together how he and the others got here, and how to return home - if possible. He'd also quickly figure out that this world seems to operate on different 'rules' than his own, so he'd start recording them so that he wouldn't be caught off-guard. I can imagine that when the group would find a town to settle in, during the night Signas would find some parchment and start writing a bunch of notes and drawing charts so he could share them with his friends. I can imagine him even making the beginnings of a type-effectiveness chart, which would be filled out as he'd observe (and participate in) numerous battles. Also, for some reason I get the feeling that he might not need to sleep as a Beheeyem, so he'd probably be doing that all night. If I go with this headcanon, I can also imagine him looking at the stars and trying to see if he can recognize any constellations, but he wouldn't be able to find anything familiar - indicating that they could be at a completely unknown point in space. Maybe even an entirely different universe. I feel like deep down, even he'd be a bit troubled by that thought. If he can't get back home, he can't lead the Hunters anymore, or fulfill his promise to his creator. He'd also never see Alia again... He'd probably decide to keep all of this to himself for the time being.

While writing all this I also kept imagining how Signas would move. I pictured that most of the time he'd be levitating with his arms folded behind his back, but I also imagined him sometimes perching on surfaces that would normally be too narrow or fragile to support his weight. Sometimes he'd walk around normally if he's in an enclosed space, but I think he'd usually prefer to hover around since it would take less effort. It also kinda reminds me a bit of how Meta Knight always stands on things to make himself seem taller in the Kirby anime. So... Maybe this is something Signas does subconsciously since he used to be WAY taller.

Anyways, I guess that's all I have to say for now. Since you've made it this far, here's a scrapped black variant of my design:

I honestly think this looks way better, but I decided that it strayed too far from what a Beheeyem could plausibly look like.

[stitchinnerd]

Cross Stitch Design Resources

Hey guys! I’ve been meaning to post some of my favorite online resources for creating cross stitch patterns. These are what I personally like to use, but feel free to add on if you have more!

First off, here is a link to my size conversion chart. It is organized by Aida cloth size. It’s my personal reference to how many stitches fit into standard frame sizes. I made it so I don’t have to keep breaking out the calculator.

For example, here are the conversions for 14ct cloth, with inches on the left and pixels (squares/stitches) on the right:

14 count fabric means 14 squares per inch. So if I wanted a project for a 5″ by 7″ frame, it can be up to 70 stitches by 98 stitches. If my project is/is a little less than 112 by 140 stitches, I should get an 8″ by 10″ frame.

Stitch Fiddle

Stitch Fiddle is a website which allows you to draw your designs on graph paper, convert pictures into patterns, and download your work as a pattern. The program can also be used to make crochet and knitting patterns. 

Making an account is free, and basic features come with a free account. You can unlock more features for $2.50/month, but you won’t necessarily need them to create great patterns.

Picture Craftwork

Originally designed for converting photos into patterns, this site is great for converting pixel art as well. Simply upload your image and adjust until you’re pleased with how it looks.

Anything under 1000 stitches can be made into a free pattern! Picture Craftwork is an invaluable resource for me, because it will tell you what DMC floss colors you need!

If I’m making a particularly large piece, I’ll often create a palette of all the colors used in a small image, upload that to Picture Craftwork, and use it to determine what skeins to get.  

Crossstitch.com

Another great resource for finding and making patterns, but here I’m specifically going to talk about their caption maker tool.

As you can see they have six fonts that are free to use. The rest can be unlocked at $4/3 months or $12/year. You can write whatever you want, adjust your project width and fabric count, and see a preview before you are shown a pdf of your pattern.

Stitch Point

This is another place you can find some neat patterns, but I’m once again focusing on their writing tool.

You can choose from several free fonts, giving you an option of cross stitches, back stitches, or a blend.

The only thing I don’t like about it is that you cannot type--you have to click the buttons on screen. It’s a bit tedious, but unlike crossstitch.com, you have the advantage of seeing what it will look like while you make it.

And finally, the program I use more than any other for cross stitch, the place where >90% of my projects begin, my most valuable cross stitching resource...

...is MS PAINT.

Paint shows you how many pixels (stitches) your image is and is fairly easy to make patterns in, as long as you know the golden command:

ctrl + g. 

ctrl + g is the command which brings up a grid, putting each pixel in a nice little box for you. Zoom in 800% (max) and you’re good to go. Sometimes I won’t even use the other websites I just wrote about--as long as I don’t need to backstitch, paint is usually all I need. (Apologies to Mac users--I’m not sure if there is an equivalent for you, but I’ve heard ms paint may work on an emulator.)

Those are my top resources! Once again, feel free to add on or ask questions. One more thing: if you’re interested in cross stitching video game sprites, I very highly recommend The Spriters Resource! This site is a free database of video game sprites from a wide range of consoles compiled by a bunch of hard working sprite rippers. I’ve used it countless times for Mario and Undertale projects.

That’s all! Happy stitching!

[nastybuckybarnes]

In a Heartbeat  -  Seven

Pairing: Fireman!Bucky X Reader

Summary: You’ve always been careful with your heart. With your condition, you don’t exactly have any other choice. The last time you let someone in, you paid the price. A price you don’t plan on paying again. Until Bucky comes in and shatters your carefully crafted world.

Warnings: Angst, Language, Injuries, Fluff, Fluff, FLUFF

Word Count: 4.1K

A/n: Here she is! Part seven! I’m gonna write a little epilogue but the fic can very well end here! I love this series with my whole heart and soul omg

Series Masterlist

~*~

He’s numb.

So damn numb.

Nothing even matters. His ears are ringing, the bright lights bouncing off the linoleum floors are fucking with his eyes but he doesn’t care because you’ve been in the operating room for hours and all he wants is to see you, to make sure you’re okay.

No one’s said a single thing to him about whether or not you’re okay, and it’s taking all of his self-control not to break down that door and see for himself.

A heavy hand lands on his shoulder, jolting him from his thoughts and bringing him back to the loud sounds of the waiting room.

He furrows his brows at Steve, confused out of his mind until he sees Tommy in his other arm, head resting against his father's shoulder and a casted arm hanging limply at his side.

“Hey Tommy, how you feeling?” The brunet asks, his voice rough and hoarse with lack of use.

The six-year-old only whimpers softly in response, burrowing further into his father’s neck.

“He’s okay. Doctor’s got him on some painkillers. Said it was a clean break from pounding on that window.” Bucky stands up, rubbing his nephew on the back. “You’re a hero, buddy. Just like your daddy.” Tommy sniffles and nods, the sight breaking the man’s heart.

“You should head home for the night, Buck. Shower, rest, then come back in the morning.” He clenches his jaw and swallows hard, shaking his head.

“I-I can’t, Steve. What if... what if she comes out and I’m not here? Or what if...” He trails off, not even wanting to entertain the idea of the other option.

“I saw Nat on her way down here. Ask her for an update and then go home. You’ve had a long day. And when she’s out of surgery she's gonna be upset to see that you’ve exhausted yourself out here in the waiting room.” Steve has a point. Both men are still in their fire gear, having rushed to the hospital directly from the fire.

It’s after midnight now.

“I’m taking Tommy home. Take care of yourself tonight, Buck. If not for you, then for her.” He nods, eyes on the floor as the blond leaves, his son curled up against his side.

“Barnes? You’re still here?” He looks up at the sound of Natasha’s voice, desperation evident on his face as she walks over to him.

“I’ve got no update other than she’s unstable and that they’re doing everything they can. It’ll be another few hours before she’s out of surgery and even then, she’s going straight to the ICU and won’t be awake for at least a day or so.” He lets out a terribly shaky breath but nods, rubbing his eyes then pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Y-you’ll call if there are any updates, right? I’m just gonna pop home and shower and sleep for a few hours but I'll be back first thing in the morning.” She nods, taking his hand and squeezing tightly.

“I’m off for the rest of the night, so I’ll be sticking around bugging the nurses for updates whenever I can. Might even bribe an intern with good coffee, not this hospital shit.” Bucky chuckles softly, shaking his head.

“Okay.” He takes a step towards the exit then hesitates, looking back at the redhead for a. moment. “Do you think she’s gonna make it?” He asks, his voice soft and broken and nearly lost among the sea of people.

Natasha swallows hard and avoids his eyes, taking a deep breath before answering.

“The doctors are doing everything they can.” A rehearsed answer. An answer she gives to relatives to let them know that they shouldn’t expect much.

He says nothing, only gives her a firm nod, then turns and leaves the hospital.

Hot droplets of water rain down on him, washing away the stench of smoke and the physical reminder of the events of the day. But no heat and no water pressure will wash away the sorrow in his soul. The absolute unadulterated fear that grips his bones and seeps into his bloodstream. That is something that won’t be washed away by any amount of water and suds.

His movements are mechanical, scrub, rinse, dry, dress.

The sleep that finds him is restless and fitful, filled with nightmares that will haunt him for nights to come. Every thought, both waking and otherwise, are occupied by you. Your face, your smile, your laugh, and the thought that he may never experience any of them again.

He's back at the hospital at six-thirty, coffee in his metal hand because his flesh one is shaking too much.

Just as he’s walking to the reception desk, he sees Natasha walking towards the waiting room. Her face is unreadable when she sees him, but he notices her take a deep breath.

“What is it?” He asks, not bothering with pleasantries.

“She’s out of surgery. She’s still unstable, hasn’t woken up yet, but she’s been out for about three hours. She probably won’t wake up until this evening.” He takes a few deep breaths then nods, a bubble of relief hugging him tenderly.

“Where is she?” Nat sighs and turns on her heel, leading him towards your room.

“James, I’m not going to sugar coat this for you. She’s not doing well. There’s still a fair chance that she won’t wake up.” She stops, looking up at him with vulnerability in her eyes, tears brimming.

“What is it?” He’s nervous, his heart feels like it’s going to explode.

“They’re saying she needs a transplant. That her heart won’t last for much longer and if she wants any hope of surviving more than a couple years, she’ll need a new heart.”

The air leaves his lungs in a whoosh, almost as if someone punched him in the gut. He stumbles back a step, coffee dropped and hands coming to the tops of his thighs as he hunches over, trying to catch his breath.

“That’s a best-case scenario. Worst case is she... well... we should’ve said our goodbyes. But she’s strong. She’ll pull through. She has to pull through.” That last part is whispered so softly that the brunet almost misses it.

“Nat,” his voice breaks, it cracks and splinters and shatters in pieces on the linoleum that he doesn’t have the energy to pick up. He can’t pick himself back up. Not if you might not wake up. He just can’t.

“Sit down, c’mon.” She helps him lean back against the wall, sliding down until he’s seated, arms draped over his knees and his head hanging heavily between them.

He can’t breathe.

A sick voice in his head screams that this is what you must’ve been feeling, this terrible tightness in your chest, this inability to draw in a single damn breath. It’s unbearable and for just a moment he realizes he wouldn’t blame you if you gave up, if you just let it take you. But he shakes that thought from his head and instead focuses on you fighting. You need to fight. If you can pull through, then they can find you a new heart and you’ll be okay.

You’re going to be okay.

You have to be okay.

~*~

Everything feels still. Dry. Bland.

If you could pin it to a colour, that colour would be beige.

Everything feels beige.

You’ve been awake for a little while now, gathering your bearings and trying to remember what happened. The last thing you remember is the fire bell... Wanda telling you not to go... and then running back into the building to find Tommy.

Tommy.

Your heart picks up in speed, pain flaring through your chest at the action, and an alarm starts beeping rapidly.

It takes only seconds for the door to open, nurses and doctors flooding into the room and checking the various machines around you while you grab at the front of your hospital gown uselessly, trying to alleviate the pain.

“(Y/n), I need you to take a big breath with me, okay?” A doctor says, her brown eyes focused on yours. You nod, inhaling with her for a moment then exhaling. You do this a few times and the machine gradually stops, your heart slowing as whatever they injected into your bloodstream takes effect.

Nurses slowly trickle out, leaving just you and the doctor.

“Well, you sure know how to make an entrance,” she says with a smile, looking over your chart.

“What can I say, Doc? I’ve got a flair for the dramatic.” Your voice is weak, far weaker than it should be, and that alone scares you.

She chuckles softly, smiling at your words before tucking the chart under her arm and looking at you straight on.

“You being alive right now is an absolute miracle,” she says softly, taking a step towards the bed then motioning to the chair beside it, asking wordlessly if she can take a seat.

You nod, taking a few deep breaths as you prepare to hear whatever news she has for you.

“Your heart stopped twice on the way to the hospital, and the second time we almost couldn’t get it going again. Your heart is weak, and what you endured nearly ruptured your left atrium and you had severe lacerations of your ventricles. It is most comparable to a very severe heart attack, and you’re lucky to have survived.”

She doesn’t look like she’s delivering good news. No, she should be happy if you’re lucky to have survived. That fact alone puts you on edge.

“What is it? What... what’s wrong with my heart now?” You know it can’t be good judging only by the look on her face. It’s a look you’ve seen far too many times.

“With the rate you’re going, your heart will give out completely in three or four years. And it won’t be a pleasant process. You’ll be in pain, bedridden and hospitalized because you won’t be able to move. The only alternative is a transplant.” The world around you shifts from beige to grey, the clouds dark and the room sorrowful.

Your ears start ringing, loud and painfully and it takes everything in you not to rip them right off.

“S-so that’s it then? I’m gonna die in three years if I’m lucky? I’ve only got three years left?” She sighs and looks down at her hands, “the only other option would be to put you on a waiting list for a new heart, but we cannot guarantee that you’ll get it in time, but it’s worth a shot.” You shake your head, tears falling from your eyes and splattering on the ugly blue hospital blanket.

“I don’t want a new heart! I don’t want to go through a process and get my hopes up over something that I won’t get in time.” You sniffle and shove your face in your hands, the steady beeping of the machine next to you making you want to cry even harder.

“I’ll give you some time, (Y/n).” The doctor gets up and leaves, a sad look on her face as she turns to the pair waiting anxiously outside your door.

Natasha pushes herself to her feet, her eyes wide with curiosity and desperation.

“I recommend you give her space. She’s... processing everything,” Doctor Palmer says softly, giving Natasha a sad smile before walking away to handle her other patients.

Nat exchanges looks with Bucky then slowly walks to the door.

“Just give me a minute to see how she’s doing, okay? I’ll tell her you’re out here waiting, I just wanna see if she needs anything.” He takes a deep breath but nods, understanding that Natasha would be able to tell, if only from a medical standpoint, what you need.

You keep your face in your hands, tears wetting your palms, as the door opens again.

“Beans?” Nat’s voice makes you stiffen, sniffling and wiping your eyes before peeking up at her.

Her heart shatters in her chest at the sight of you.

Skin dull, eyes heavy and sunken. She’s seen a lot of sick people before but never would she have put you in the same category as them. Now though? Now, you look the part.

“I uh... I heard the news. Bugged the nurses for updates and they finally caved.”

Your bottom lip wobbles and then a sob bubbles out of your chest.

Nat’s face falls and she slides onto the bed beside you, pulling you into a tight embrace while you sob.

“Oh beans,” she whispers, smoothing your hair away from your face.

“I don’t want a new heart!” You cry, tears soaking her shirt. She hugs you, holds you tightly while you cry out your frustrations, your sorrows.

It’s agony.

She has so many questions, so much she wants to say, but she knows better.

She holds her tongue, wanting you to be in a better headspace before she talks to you about your options. It’s too soon. The wound is too fresh.

Bucky sits impatiently outside of the room the whole time, leg bouncing and flesh fingers trembling.

Natasha comes out of your room a short while later, sniffling and wiping at her cheeks.

“What’s happening? Is she okay?” The redhead nods, taking a few deep breaths.

“I’ve seen a lot of sick people, Barnes. A lot of them. But seeing her... seeing my friend so weak and tiny...” She shakes her head, looking up at him with glossy eyes.

“I’m scared, Buck.” Bucky pulls her into a hug, his own breaths shaking.

“It's okay. It’s gonna be okay.” She sniffles again then speaks, “she’s asleep again. She should be good to see you the next time she wakes up though. I’m sure she misses you.” He squeezes his eyes shut but nods, trying to mentally prepare himself to see you in such a fragile state.

~*~

Bucky doesn’t know how to feel.

He doesn’t even want to feel.

Helpless.

That’s the word that sums it up the best.

Seeing you on that hospital bed, tubes attached to your face, arms, and chest, he feels absolutely helpless.

“Hey,” he murmurs, smiling gently when you look up from your book.

“Bucky... Hi.” Your voice is raspy and hoarse, and he has to take a few shaky breaths to stop from crying.

“You mind if I sit?” You shake your head, motioning to the chair beside your bed.

He takes a seat and looks at you closely, his eyes welling up with tears.

“How ya feelin, pretty girl?” You huff a breath out through your nose then shrug, trying your hardest to stay strong in front of him.

“I uh... I’ve been better, I gotta say.” He chuckles weakly then nods, sniffling and dropping his gaze for a moment.

“Nat uh... Nat told me what the doctors said. About your heart and stuff. That’s... intense.” It’s not the best word but it’s the only one he can find.

You blow a breath out through your mouth and nod.

“It’s scary,” you whisper, not looking up from your hands even when he takes them in his.

“I’m scared. I don’t want to be put on a waiting list only to not get one in time. And there are people who need a new heart more than I do. People who want one more than I do.” He furrows his brows and cocks his head to the side in confusion.

“What do you mean, you don’t want a new heart? Why wouldn’t you want one?”

You sigh heavily, “because, James. This is my heart. It’s the heart that I’ve lived with for my whole life. I don’t want a new one because this one is mine. This is the one that’s dealt with heartbreaks and betrayals. This is the one that’s gotten me through the bad days and the good. And this is the one that chose you. I don’t want a different one. I wanna keep this one. And don’t you dare tell me that my days are numbered if I keep this one because my days are numbered regardless.”

You finally look up at him, fire in your eyes as you express everything that’s been going on in your mind.

“We’re all gonna die someday, and it may not be the way we expect or the way we want, and we won’t ever be fully ready for it. But it’s gonna happen. I’d much rather know that I spent my life doing what I wanted on my terms. If my days are numbered, I'd rather enjoy them than spend them waiting for a heart I may never get. My heart’s still got a few years left in it. Careful years, yeah, but years no less.”

Tears stain his cheeks and he nods, sniffling twice then pressing a kiss to your hands.

“I’m not going to try and change your mind, Doll. The choice is completely yours and no matter what you decide to do, I’ll stay by your side through all of it, I promise. You’re my girl, my best girl, my only girl, and I want you to do what’s best for you.” You squeeze your eyes shut, having mentally prepared yourself for him to put up a fight, not for him to be so supportive of your decision.

“I love you, (Y/n). And I’m gonna cherish every fucking moment that you let me spend with you because I love you. I thought,” he pauses, pulling a hand back to scrub the tears off of his cheeks only for more to fall.

“I thought I’d lose you before getting a chance to truly tell you. But I’m not gonna waste any more time because life is a precious gift. I love you, (Y/n). So much. To the fucking ends of the Earth. I love you and I don't want a day to go by where you don’t know just how much I love you.”

You whimper, his confession making warmth spread through your body and tears rain down your cheeks.

“I-I love you too, James. With every ounce of my heart, I love you. And I don't want to let you down and I never want to hurt you.” He closes his eyes, content to bask in the weight of your words for a moment longer, a private, intimate moment.

He eventually settles his head on the bed next to your hip, and your fingers find their way into his luscious brown locks, twirling the thick strands around mindlessly.

“When are you getting discharged?” He asks, his voice muffled by the bed.

“I’m not sure yet. Doctor Palmer said she wants to keep me here for at least another week or so to monitor my heart and take me off the medication, and then maybe some more time after that depending on how weak I am.” He nods, nuzzling against you some more.

“I’m not going back to work ‘till you’re out,” he says matter-of-factly.

You only giggle, shaking your head.

“James, that’s not even plausible. You’ve got bills to pay. Besides, you’ll get tired of being here. I’m gonna spend most of my time sleeping or bugging the nurses for some real food.” He lifts his head, eyes full of vulnerability.

“I just don't wanna leave you and then...” He trails off but you understand his concern.

“I’m gonna be okay. Doctor Palmer says I’m doing okay. I’m sure Nat will continue bugging her for updates and she’ll let you know if there’s anything concerning happening. But I’m gonna be fine, I swear.” He watches you for a moment longer before nodding and pressing his head against your thigh.

A thought bubbles into your mind and you tug gently on his hair to get his attention.

“What happened to Tommy?” You ask, voice tight and filled with apprehension.

Bucky only smiles gently.

“Lil guy’s a hero. He busted that window open, that’s how we found you two. Broke his arm but he’s okay. Says he looks like me so he likes it.” A smile finds its way onto your face at the idea of Tommy looking up to his uncle so much.

“He’s already gotten everyone at the firehouse to sign it, and I’m sure when he’s back to school he’ll get everyone there to sign it too. But the lil guy’s a hero. Gonna make a good firefighter.” You nod, mind flashing back to those last few moments in the school.

“I was so scared, James. I-I couldn’t protect him and I didn’t know what to do.” He reaches up and strokes your cheek gently, shushing you softly.

“It’s okay, pretty girl. It’s okay. Everyone’s okay.” You take a few deep breaths and nod, trying to calm down before your heart rate picks up too much.

“You need to worry about yourself, and not everyone else. Focus on getting better, okay? And then, when you’re ready, I’m gonna take you out on a date and show you just how much you can enjoy life, okay?”

You nod, smiling at him.

“Okay.”

~*~

“Miss (Y/l/n)!” Tommy runs at you full speed, nearly knocking you over when he barrels into your legs.

Bucky’s quick to steady you, opening his mouth to reprimand his nephew but you stop him, raising a hand to cut him off.

“Hey, Tommy! How’s my little superhero feeling?” He pulls back and smiles up at you.

“I got another cast so now my arm looks just like uncle Bucky’s!” You glance at the new blue cast and smile brightly.

“Look at that! And you’re a hero just like him too, huh?” He nods excitedly then digs around in his pocket for a moment.

“Here!” He hands you a sharpie then points to a blank space on his cast.

“I made sure to leave room for you to sign it!” Your face softens and you crouch down in front of him, signing your name and drawing a small picture.

“Thank you, Tommy.” He nods, glancing over his shoulder as his dad calls his name.

“C’mon Tommy! You gonna help us move or are you gonna help miss (Y/l/n) get organized?” He looks between you and his dad then runs over to the moving truck, excitedly grabbing whatever his little arms can carry then bringing them into the house.

Bucky wraps an arm around your waist and presses a soft kiss to your temple.

“You ready?” You look up at your new house, then over at him, nodding without hesitation.

“Absolutely.”

The moving process is long and tedious, and after seven hours of lifting, unboxing, cleaning, and organizing, you’re about ready to call it a day.

“Pizza’s on its way, and Nat ran out to grab some beers,” Bucky says, coming up into the master bedroom. Concern immediately colours his features as he sees the way you’re sitting. You’re on the bed, hunched over with one hand on your mouth and the other on your lower abdomen.

“(Y/n)?” He asks, coming to a crouch in front of you and trying to get a look at your face.

You take a few deep breaths then nod, opening your eyes and offering him a weak smile.

“You okay?” You nod again but he seems unconvinced.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” You take a deep breath and reach for his hand, squeezing it gently.

“I uh.. not really. I wanted to tell you in a better way but I guess this is as good as it’s going to get.” His heart is in his throat, absolutely terrified of what you’re going to tell him.

You’ve been going to the doctor a lot more frequently, and your energy levels have plummeted.

He knew you didn’t have time left but it hasn’t even been six months since the fire.

You pull his hand to your stomach and rest it there gently, eyes finding his as you wait for it to click.

He stares at his hand in confusion, that confusion melting away as he realizes what you’re telling him.

“Wait, are you...?”  His eyes are wide, eyebrows raised and heart pounding.

You only nod, tears welling up in your eyes as he launches up and wraps his arms around your frame.

“Oh my god. Oh my god! I’m gonna be a dad!” You giggle wetly, tears of joy falling and getting soaked up by his shirt.

“We’re gonna have a baby.” He pulls back, hands on your small baby bump.

“How far along are you?” He asks, cradling the bump delicately between his hands.

“About three months. And the doctor said that they’ve already got a birth plan ready, and different pills for me to take to calm my heart.” His glossy eyes look up at you, so full of love and adoration.

“I can’t believe it. I...” he stops, leaning in the gently kiss your lips then pulls you into another tight embrace.

“Thank you, (Y/n). Thank you.”

[myhockeyworld87]

What Happens In Vegas...Doesn’t Always Stay There - Jacob Markstrom - Part 3

Word Count: 4,050

POV: Reader

Warning: Language

Notes: Well I’m finally at home for a night and I definitely owe you guys a story. So since I had the next part of this one ready, I dediced to post it. When last we saw these two, they had decided to divorce, and our reader had signed the papers and sent them back to Jacob. Who had forgotten to sign them. Let’s see what happens now, though I think some of you have an idea. As always feedback is welcome. Happy Reading!

What Happens In Vegas…Doesn’t Always Stay There Masterlist

It had been almost seven weeks since Jacob met you. For six of those, he’d talked to you every day, sometimes two and three times. It was just these last few days that you wouldn’t answer his calls or texts. Jacob was confused, to put it mildly. He wracked his brain trying to recall the last couple of conversations that you’d had, wondering if he’d said or did something to anger you, but nothing came to mind. In Jacob’s mind, he thought the two of you were actually starting something. Sure, it had been one of the most peculiar beginnings to a relationship ever, but the last several weeks' things had been nice, better than nice actually. He thought the two of you might have a chance at a real relationship. Of course, the distance between you played a part, but he thought the two of you could work that out; apparently, he was wrong.

 Jacob knew the moment he stepped poolside, that you were something special. The longer he talked to you the more he knew he’d been right. If he was being honest, it was probably one of the reasons he suggested marrying you, even though that marriage would be over soon. Just like lightning striking in the middle of a storm, it hit Jacob then why you were pissed. He’d forgotten to sign the divorce papers. He’d had them for well over two weeks now. Rushing into the office, he started rifling through all the crap on his desk looking for the manila envelope that you’d mailed it to him in. He was just in the process of opening it when the front doorbell rang, so back on the desk it went, as he headed to the door to answer it.

 Jacob was shocked to see you standing there. “(Y/N), what are you doing here?” He didn’t mean for that to come out the way it did. It took him a moment to recover before taking you in. There were dark circles under your eyes that made it look like you hadn’t slept in days, not to mention how puffy they looked as if you’d been crying. Jacob wanted nothing more than to take you in his arms and make whatever seemed to be causing you this much pain go away.

 “Hey,” you mumbled out weakly. “Can I come in?”

 “Of course.” He stepped aside, letting you into his home. It was your typical bachelor pad. Walls stark and devoid of any real character that you knew Jacob possessed. He led you over to the couch in the living room, an enormous piece of furniture designed for his large frame. It almost seemed to swallow you whole. “(Y/N) is everything ok?” There was concern in his eyes and you knew he was probably questioning your presence there after you’d been radio silent the last few days.

 “No.” The one-word answer was hard to push out without tears falling down your eyes. You could see how Jacob’s fingers itched to touch you and honestly that’s all you wanted right now, for him to just take you in his arms and somehow have all the answers, but he had to know the problem first. You took a deep breath trying to steel yourself for what you needed to tell him. “Jacob, I don’t know how to tell you this.” At that moment Jacob grabbed your hands and engulfed them in his giving you his support in just that simple touch. It gave you enough courage to blurt out the last part. “I’m pregnant.��

 You felt his hands slip a bit on yours at the shock of the news; his mouth working trying to form a sentence yet nothing coming out. It took a minute but he finally found his words. “Wow, um…ok…I hate to ask this…”

 This was the part you knew was coming, expected it really and you didn’t blame him at all. So, to spare him, you found yourself answering the unspoken question. “It’s yours.” He nodded but you felt the need to explain more. “I haven’t been with anyone since Vegas, and even before that, well, work was really busy, and…well let’s just say it had been over a month or longer.”

 “You don’t have to say anymore, (Y/N). I believe you.” His hands tightened on yours, the shock of everything starting to wear off. “Plus, we didn’t use protection.” It was something you didn’t give much thought to when you were with Jacob, which was odd because you’d always been extra cautious with hookups, but then everything with Jacob was different than anyone else. “Do you…do you know what you want to do?”

 This time you couldn’t stop the tears from flowing. “I tried, Jacob. I really did.” He looked confused, unsure of what you meant by that. “I went to get an abortion yesterday.” He blinked hard but other than that showed no expression. “I was sitting there on the damn table in a gown just waiting for the doctor to come in and then I looked around. There was this damn chart that showed what the size of your baby is every week compared to fruit of all things. It’s a blueberry by the way. A damn cute little blueberry, like the kind they put in muffins and stuff.” Why it had to be an adorable little fruit like that you didn’t know. Why couldn’t it be honeydew? You hated that fruit. Well maybe not hate, but it wasn’t your favorite that’s for sure. “Anyhow, I was just staring at that poster and looking at each week and I don’t know. I couldn’t breathe.” Kind of like now, even telling him brought back all those feelings. “I started thinking about the doctor telling me that I could hear the heartbeat next week when she did the ultrasound, and I’m not sure what happened, but I couldn’t go through with it; so, I left. I’m so sorry.”

 You weren’t quite sure if you were apologizing to him or yourself. This was something you didn’t want, at least not right now, or at least that’s what you always thought. Now, you didn’t know what you wanted anymore. You took a deep breath, composing yourself. “I booked a flight once I got home. I couldn’t tell you this over the phone or text. You deserved to hear it in person.”

 “Thank you for that.”

 You slipped your hands out of his, distancing yourself from him for this next part, but also pulling out the envelope you brought. “I’m going to keep the baby.” As if that part wasn’t obvious, but you somehow felt it needed to be said. “I had Aaron draw up some papers. They absolve you from any obligations to the child both financially and emotionally. All you have to do is sign them. You won’t even have to be listed on the birth certificate.” He took the envelope from your hands, glancing briefly at the contents inside. “I’m sure you’ll want to have your lawyer look it over.”

 Jacob didn’t know what to think. Ten minutes ago, he was wondering if you were ever going to speak to him again and now you were telling him you were having his child. A child you apparently didn’t want him to be a part of. But did he even want a baby? He certainly hadn’t wanted a wife, yet here he was still married to you. He should come clean right now and tell you that he hadn’t signed the papers yet. That some indescribable feeling had taken over him, and he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to sign them anymore. And now, well, now he felt like he shouldn’t sign them. Maybe this was all some force in the universe steering his life in a different direction; a route he hadn’t planned on taking until later, yet here he was on it. “And what if I don’t want to sign them?”

 Well, that certainly wasn’t what you thought he’d say. You didn’t think this was something either of you wanted, but you couldn’t be certain. It wasn’t like the two of you had had this long talk about where you saw your life in five years. Hell, this wasn’t where you saw your life in five months, but here you were, on the verge of being divorced with a baby on the way. “Well, I guess we’ll need to figure things out then.”

 Jacob got up and started to wander around the living room. You weren’t sure if he was trying to decide whether or not he wanted to sign the papers or how he was going to be part of his child’s life. “Do you want a drink or something? I need a drink. Oh shit, you can’t drink, can you?”

 “It’s not advised, but please don’t let that stop you. Though if you have a water that would be great.” He headed towards the kitchen, which gave you a chance to just breathe. The hardest part was telling him, all the rest you’d figure out. He was back quicker than you expected, a bottle of water in each hand. He handed one over to you and sat back down beside you. “You know, you can think about this if you want. You don’t have to sign or not sign them right now.”

 He nodded and pursued his lips before answering, though not how you expected. “How long are you here for?”

 “A few days. There’s a movie being filmed not far from here. I offered to drop off some of the specs for the campaign, as long as I was here, but it also gives you some time to make a decision.”

 “I already have. I want to be in our baby’s life.” You don’t know why but it felt like a thousand pounds had been lifted off your chest. It was nice to know that you weren’t in this alone. “But there’s a lot to figure out.”

 “Yes, there is.”

 “(Y/N), this is going to sound crazy, but I want you to move here.”

 Pregnancy did weird things to the body and maybe your hearing things was one of them because you were pretty sure Jacob had just said he wanted you to move to Vancouver. “I’m sorry, you want me to move here, as in Vancouver?”

 “Well, yeah but I want you to move in here, like in my house.”

 He seemed dead serious and you weren’t sure how to take his suggestion or him at the moment. “But my life and my home are in LA. That’s where my job is.” Couldn’t he see that?

 “I know, but moving here just makes sense. I’ll be able to help you then, not just after the baby is born but before as well. I have plenty of room in this house. There are three spare bedrooms; we can turn one into a nursery for the baby.”

 How could go from finding out you were pregnant to a full out plan of attack in less than a half-hour? God, it took you a day to wrap your head around it when you found out and then another to make the decision about the abortion, and even then you still didn’t figure out you wanted to keep the baby until you were sitting in the doctor’s office. Jacob seemed to be processing everything much better than you were.

 “I don’t know Jacob, just because we’re having this baby together doesn’t mean we have to live together.” Everything with Jacob was still in this weird transition phase like you went from being wildly attracted to each other, to being married, to getting a divorce, to now having a baby, and now he wanted you to live together under the same roof. You didn’t even know if the two of you would get along that great. Sure, the sex was amazing, well really better than amazing if that was even a thing, and you seemed to get along if your conversations over the last several weeks were any indication, but to live together; that could just be a whole other problem altogether.

 “Look I know it’s a lot to ask and believe me if I could, I’d be willing to move to LA. It’s not like I can just ask to be traded there though. But I don’t want you to have to do this on your own.” It was awfully sweet of him to want to be there for you, and not just the baby. You’d just assumed that he’d want to see the baby on some weekends and maybe an extended time during the summer when he was off. “You don’t realize this yet, but there’s going to be a whole hockey family here for you. That’s just the way it is in this sport.” He grasped your hands then, the gesture one pleading in and of itself for you to see his side of things. “We can do this (Y/N), together.”

 Together, it sounded so nice. You knew that if he had decided to sign the papers that being a single mom was going to be tough, but now knowing that he wanted to be there every step of the way eased some of the burden you felt. It was just hard to think about giving up the life you’d built for yourself in LA. You were already giving up so much as it was. “I get what you’re asking, I really do. I just…it’s a lot.” His thumb started to run back and forth across your knuckles, softly urging you to his side without him even knowing it. “Can I think about it?”

 “Of course.”

 “I mean we don’t have to decide everything tonight.”

 “No, we don’t.” He smiled at you. The same one he gave you when you’d been in Vegas. It gave you butterflies in your stomach back then as it did now. “How are you feeling?”

 “Pretty good, I get a little queasy now and then; mostly when I’m hungry. I’ve learned to carry crackers with me everywhere.”

 “Well, I could make you something or we could order.” The fact that he even offered scored points in your book and was definitely a check on his side of the box for moving to Vancouver, and you were kind of hungry.

 “I mean, I haven’t really eaten.” He gave you a disapproving stare and you felt the need to justify why you hadn’t. “I was too nervous before.”

 “Well, then let’s get you something to eat.” Jacob led you out to the kitchen, where he took out some chicken along with some vegetables to stick in the oven. The two of you worked side by side getting dinner ready. You were midway chopping up some zucchini when Jacob brought the baby back up again. “You mentioned something about the heartbeat. Were you able to hear it?”

 “I have to schedule an ultrasound when I get back but they said that I should be able to.”

 “Mmm.” You weren’t exactly sure what that little hum meant. Was that a good hum, or a bad one? You stayed silent waiting for him to say more. “Do you think you could record it for me?”

 Why did your heart just flutter when he asked that? Was it because he wanted to hear the baby or was it because you were realizing how much he would be missing when you went back to LA? “I will,” you finally told him, but then had an even better idea. “Though you know, I’m here for four more days. Maybe we could find a doctor that would be able to do it while I’m here.”

 His face lit up, like a little boy on Christmas morning. “You would do that?”

 “Yeah. If we can find a doctor to squeeze us in.”

 “I’ll take care of it.” He pulled out his phone, you weren’t sure if he was searching for gynecologists or texting someone, either way, it was adorable how he just jumped in at the first mention of being a part of this whole pregnancy. Again, he was showing you just how nice it would be to share this with him. Ten minutes later he had an appointment all set for you in two days.

 During dinner you talked about how you had found out you were pregnant, telling him the story of how Kennedy was the one to point out your nausea wasn’t normal and that you should take a pregnancy test. She was the only one that knew you were pregnant. You swore her to secrecy, hoping that she wouldn’t spill the beans this time like she had about a certain movie star. Surprisingly, he wanted to know everything, though there wasn’t too much to tell. By the time you got the mess cleaned up from dinner, you were starting to feel the weariness of the day.

 “I think I’m going to head over to the hotel. I still need to check in. Hopefully, I’ll be able to sleep better tonight, now that you finally know.”

 “Stay.” The word fell out of Jacob’s mouth in almost an authoritative manner, which belied the puppy dog look on his face. He cleared his throat and tried again. “I mean you could stay here if you wanted. Sort of like a tryout or something.”

 “You mean trial run?” Leave it to his athletic side to call it a tryout. It made you laugh.

 “Yeah. We could just take the next few days and see how we do together.” It wasn’t a bad idea. “You call and cancel the hotel and I’ll go grab your bag from the car.” He was halfway to the door before you actually agreed.

 As Jacob went outside, he contemplated with himself as to where he should put your things. Did he just bring your luggage to his room or should he give you one of the spare rooms? Despite the fact you were carrying his child, his body still wanted you as much, if not more, than when you were in Vegas. He just wasn’t sure where you saw things going.

 You were just hanging up the phone when he walked back into the house and unbeknownst to him, you were wondering the same thing. However, your head kept telling you that if the two of you were going to make this work, you needed to keep things out of the bedroom, at least for now. Jacob must have had the same thought as you, for when he came in, he said, “Here, I’ll show you where the spare bedroom is.” The room was spacious but again, it wasn’t that homey, and occurred to you that if you decided to live here, you’d definitely need to make some changes. “Did you maybe wanna watch a movie or something, or are you tired?”

 You could see he was struggling in this unchartered territory as much as you were, and while you were exhausted; you still wanted to spend time with him, to see if moving to Vancouver was even an option. “I’d love to watch a movie. Do you mind if I change first?”

 “No, not at all.” He fidgeted with the back of his neck a bit, before turning to leave. “I’ll meet you back downstairs.”

 You really wanted to take a hot shower and crawl into bed, but instead, you opted for just washing up quickly and slipping on a pair of pajamas you’d brought. It was still warm in LA, though the nights were a bit cooler. All you brought to sleep in were a couple pairs of shorts and some comfy t-shirts, thinking that you’d be in a hotel room by yourself. Now, you were wishing that you’d thought about it a little more and packed something a little warmer, if not more modest. Why you cared, you weren’t sure, considering this man had seen you completely naked several times.

 Jacob had changed into some sweats by the time you got downstairs. He had bottles of water for you both along with a pack of crackers laying on the coffee table, and you had to admit your heart melted a little bit when you saw that. “So, what kind of movies do you like? I remember you saying no horror.”

 “We don’t have to watch a movie. I know the Bruins are playing tonight and that you play them tomorrow. Why don’t you just turn the game on?” He looked surprised that you knew his schedule, but you did a deep dive finding out as much information as you could once you found out you were pregnant. He was going to be the baby's father, even if he would've decided not to be in your child's life, though now that he decided he wanted to be, the information was even more useful.

 “Are you sure?” You nodded giving him the go-ahead to watch his opponents’ play. “Speaking of that, would you be interested in going to the game? I mean I know someone who could get you a ticket on short notice?” He looked so adorable when he asked you couldn’t tell him no.

 “I’d love to.” You’d watched very few hockey games live, though ever since Las Vegas, you’d been following the Canucks, well, more like Jacob. It would be fun to see him in action.

 “Great, I can leave you a ticket or have Erik’s fiancé come and take you. You’ll love her.”

 Jacob really wanted you to jump in with both feet, didn’t he? You weren’t quite sure if you were ready to meet all his friends and teammates, but you supposed that if you moved here this would be a part of your life. “If she wouldn’t mind that would be great.”

 “I’ll text him now.”

 “Jacob,” you stopped him, just by saying his name. “Can we keep the baby our secret for now? I know Kennedy knows and I don’t expect you to keep it to yourself, but I don’t want to broadcast it either. At least until we know what we’re doing.”

 He took your hand in his, the gesture reassuring. “Yeah (Y/N), we can do that.”

 It wasn’t long before your attire got the best of you and you found yourself tucking your feet underneath you on the couch trying to keep them warm. You thought that Jacob was fully absorbed in the game, but he caught the subtle movement. “Are you cold?”

 “A little.”

 He scooted your closer to him, his large frame wrapping around yours. You weren’t sure if it was his body heat or him just holding you, but it was definitely warmer in seconds, though Jacob still covered you with a throw blanket that was on the couch. “Better?”

 “Much.” It wasn’t long before you found yourself dozing off. The stress of the day and travel wearing on you. Your head fell softly against his shoulder and you sighed in contentment.

 Jacob felt your body relax against him and he savored the feel of it. He’d honestly missed this closeness to another person in a completely non-sexual way and having you in his arms just felt right. He should’ve been paying attention to the game, scouting out his opponents but instead all he could do was watch you, even before you fell asleep. His fingers were idly stroking your bare arm under the blanket, slowly inching their way down to your wrist. He didn’t realize they’d made their way to your midsection until they were there; just lightly caressing you, scared he would wake you, but he had to touch you there. He’d been dying to all night but been afraid to ask as if it was almost an invasion of your privacy even though you were carrying his child. His child. The thought both terrified him and thrilled him. Jacob always wanted kids; knew that someday he would have them. He just didn’t think it would be this soon. He always assumed that he’d start his family after hockey was over, but here he was with a wife and child on the way. It was something he hadn’t bargained for and never saw coming. Apparently, what happened in Vegas was a lot more than he gambled on.

 taglist: @iculyrea​  @fiveholegoal​  @raysofcrosby @leafs-lover​ @sexysidney87​ @lovethepreds​  @miranda0102​  @stbluesbrat21  @perrieeloise  @mandypants95​  @hockeyunits​  @liz96893  @golfergirl1982​  @princessphilly​  @ajstylesworld​  @zinka8  @dontworrybeekappy​  @hiimana  @meishaabae​ @heatherawoowoo @beauvibaby @hockeybabe87 @leafs-forever

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[athenadione]

‘you are mine (and I am yours)’

In which you can find out the hard way that demons don't like sharing. @vi-la-vi

AthenaDione and I did a thing! Everyone loves jealous Damian, but hear us out....jealous Raven? Hope you enjoy! -Vi

I’m so incredibly honored to participate in this collab. Vi practically paved the way for me to give you all the delicious demon Raven smut that ensues and did a superb job writing the majority of this piece, as always. If you enjoy and feel so inclined, you can leave a kudos HERE on A03. Vi— thank you for allowing me to be a part of your writing process. You’re such a talented writer and I’m happy to have found you :) -AD

She couldn’t stop staring at him. Not just because it had been years since she last saw him, but because ever since she met him, Anna Vandergilt had thought of little else. 

Damian Wayne. 

They’d met at a benefit when both were sixteen years old, and it had been love at first sight. The elusive heir finally returned to Gotham after five years abroad, doing god knows what. She’d collected every bit of information she could about him, academic transcripts, tabloids, medical and legal records. Vandergilt influence ran deep and she had no compunction about using it to fuel her obsession. Securing an internship at Wayne Enterprises as Tim Drake’s assistant was just the latest step.

And now he’s here, and I won’t let him get away again. 

Damian had to remember her, the spark when their eyes met, the unbreakable connection they’d made. He didn’t acknowledge it when they were introduced, but that was fine. He was an intense, secretive man and likely just didn’t want to make a scene. 

Green eyes flashed to hers and narrowed, catching her staring. She willed herself to keep it together, sitting up straighter and crossing her legs in an attempt to draw his attention to the slit in her pencil skirt. Blonde-haired, blue-eyed, and leggy, she knew how to make men stare.

Or so she thought. Damian had turned his attention back to Tim’s presentation, arms crossed and expression impatient. So serious. She planned ways she might be able to get him alone, with no one and nothing to distract him from her. After today, I’ll have more than just fantasies. She’d been looking for an opening to approach him all day and was sure she couldn’t wait much longer.

They broke for lunch, but just as she moved towards him she was intercepted by Tim. 

“Hey Anna, can you run up to my office and grab my blue flash drive? I forgot to bring it down earlier.”

Get it yourself! she wanted to snap. An assistant position was well beneath her pedigree, and she hated taking instructions from common-born Tim Drake. Swallowing her irritation, she smiled and nodded. 

When she finally returned, Damian had already gone, apparently having had a lunch appointment with someone else. Anna sighed. I’ll speak to him after work, I’m sure he wouldn’t say no to dinner and drinks. No man had ever refused her.

She spied him later as she was returning to the conference room, speaking to a dark-haired woman she didn’t know outside of his office. She took a moment to admire him in his suit, noting curiously that the girl with him was only casually dressed in black jeans and an off-shoulder top with a band logo. Unprofessional much? He’s probably scolding her about the dress code.

Just as the thought solidified, she leaned up and pressed a kiss to the underside of Damian’s jaw, tugging his tie playfully as she did so.  

It was as though a bucket of freezing water had been dumped over her head. Anna stood stock-still, mouth falling open in horror. Who the fuck...how dare…?

The woman whispered something in his ear, kissing his jaw again as Damian rolled his eyes and smirked. She continued to stare, waiting for him to shove her away, glare, do something. She heard someone approach from behind. 

“Ugh, those two,” Tim groaned. 

“Who is that?” Her voice was tight and strained, and the man next to her gave her a curious glance. 

“That’s Rachel, Damian’s girlfriend.”

“Oh,” she said, at a loss for anything else. 

It’s not fair. I planned...I’ve been waiting…

She shook her head, determination moving in. A minor setback. He just needs to know there’s something better on the market. Vandergilts were practically royalty, after all. Her beauty and breeding were no doubt superior. She bit back her anger as Damian dropped a kiss on the other woman’s forehead before walking away.

Just a minor setback, she mentally repeated.

-

Tim’s assistant had a serious staring problem, and Damian was relieved when he was finally able to retire to his office. Annoying. The older man had joked earlier that Damian’s constant absence in Gotham and avoidance of the public eye elevated him to mythical status among some of his father’s employees. He longed for this week to end, eager to be back in Jump and away from the Wayne gawkers. 

His phone buzzed, distracting him from the revenue charts in front of him. 

“Stephanie is insane.”

Damian smiled, eyes darting to his watch to see how much longer he’d be stuck in this office. As necessary as it was that he be here for the audit, he felt bad abandoning Raven to his siblings. Next time they came to Gotham he’d make sure it was purely recreational and personally show her the sights.

“A half hour more, then I will come rescue you.”

Then two days more, and they would be home. 

A knock on the door called his attention. “Mr. Wayne? Could I borrow you for a moment. I need a second pair of eyes on this file.”

He looked up, raising an eyebrow at the worshipful expression on her face. The scent of expensive perfume assailed him and Damian fought the urge to wrinkle his nose. She looked at him hopefully, blinking rapidly.

“Ask Drake.”

She shifted, reaching up to toy with her platinum blonde hair. “Oh...he just has so much on his plate. I wanted to avoid bothering him,” she replied, voice high and lilting. 

Strange woman. Damian wondered where his older brother had found this one. He hadn’t really been paying attention when they were introduced, Vander-something or other.

He sighed. “Fine.”

“Oh, thank you,” she breathed.

She circled around the desk to stand next to him, laying the file in front of him and bending low. A fall of blonde hair brushed his shoulder and Damian shifted slightly to put some distance between them. He spent so little time in normal society it was easy to forget how bad most people were with personal space. 

“What exactly did you need help with?”

“This.”

Without warning, she sat on his lap and pressed her lips forcefully against his, throwing one arm around his neck for good measure. Damian completely froze, protests firing rapidly through his mind. She tugged on the waistband of his pants and it was enough to break his paralysis. He shoved her off of him violently and she caught herself on the desk, shifting it several inches back.

“What are you doing?!”

The alarm on her face lasted only a second before being replaced with a coy smile. “Don’t be shy, I know you remember me. It’s been years, but you’re all I’ve thought about, Damian. I swear.”

“I - don’t…” Damian felt uncharacteristically frazzled. “I have - no. I’m not interested,” he finally managed.

“Please, Damian.” She tried to take a step forward and he instinctively backed away. He hated the way she said his name, he realized distantly.

“I have a girlfriend,” he said, hard edge in his voice. One who would kill you and probably me if she was here right now. Raven did not share.

The woman sniffed. “Her. Don’t be ridiculous, you’re a Wayne. She can’t possibly-”

“Enough.”

He glared fiercely, daring her to try and continue. Tears swam in her blue eyes and Damian felt a touch of relief that he finally managed to get through.

“I...hmph, fine. Keep her on the side if you must. My father had a mistress. Just keep her out of my sight.”

She’s insane. What the fuck kind of vetting process do you have, Drake?

He closed his eyes and exhaled before meeting her watery gaze once again. 

“Listen very carefully. I. Am. Not. Interested. I want you out of this building in the next five minutes or I’ll call security.”

“I - but - we…” She straightened, eyes glassy with disbelief as she tried to compose herself. “I see.”

Damian kept his glare on as she left the room, feeling a headache build behind his eyes. He grabbed his phone again, feeling a pang of guilt when he saw Raven's name, and called his brother.

"I fired your assistant. You're welcome."

"What? Damian, you can't just show up and start firing people!"

"I'll...explain later." Vaguely, and with as few details as I can manage.

The hint of discomfort in his voice must have given him away. "Seriously? No wonder she was staring at you all day.”

"Drop it."

"Alright, alright. Her dad's going to be pissed though, he pushed Bruce for months to take her on here. Sounds like you got your very first stalker."

Well that was a disturbing thought. Damian shook it off. "Just tell him it didn't work out." He didn't want any rumors getting back to Raven if he could help it. 

-

Lying to an empath is easier said than done.

“There’s something you’re not telling me.”

"I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She snorted disbelievingly, eyes glued on the book in her hand. “Why do you feel so guilty?”

“It was a long day. I felt bad for you.” Half-truths were the only semi-effective way he’d found of getting around her lie detector. Normally Damian would smother inconvenient questions with lips, hands, and other parts of him that Raven was always deliciously responsive to, but touching her would have felt wrong right now. She deserved to know the truth before she decided how near she wanted him.

She rolled onto her side then, burrowing down against her pillow and studying him curiously. “You don’t have to spend every second with me, Damian. I’m pretty self-sufficient, in case you haven’t noticed.”

He shrugged, laying back and closing his eyes. “I’ll just be glad to get out of here. People in Gotham are a different breed.”

Raven hummed. “Fine, don’t tell me what’s actually bothering you.” 

With that, she leaned over to kiss him goodnight. Damian flinched at the contact before responding in kind, and pretended he didn’t see the confused look in her eyes. 

“I love you,” he said, focusing the emotion to make sure she felt it as well. 

She closed her eyes, slightly mollified. “I love you, too.”

I'll tell her when we get home, he promised himself. As much as he hated keeping secrets, he knew she was going to be upset and preferred a controlled setting. Damian remembered an incident shortly after they began dating when the ticket-taker at the theater had slipped him her phone number. Raven said nothing at first, but the night ended in a supply closet instead of a screening room.

"I don't share," she whispered dangerously, legs tightening around his hips to draw him in deeper. Red flickered across her purple irises. “You’re mine.”

He smirked at the memory. We never did get to see that movie.

Definitely safer for all involved to wait until they'd left Gotham.

-

Anna stared at her discreetly from the park bench. He’s loyal, that’s all. And I wouldn’t have him any other way.

She grudgingly admitted to herself that the other woman was pretty, if unconventional. Pale purple eyes and dark purple hair - hadn’t anyone told her the punk rock look was out of date? She had nothing on the blonde’s classical beauty.

A hefty bribe to the Wayne's chauffeur had given her knowledge of the woman's - Rachel's - movements throughout the day. She was ordinarily accompanied by Tim's banshee of a girlfriend and one of Bruce's orphans, but had separated from them earlier in the day to visit Gotham’s Arts District. Anna waited until she saw her enter the nearly empty arboretum before making her move. If Damian couldn’t be persuaded to break things off, this one could. An affair with the office hottie - tale as old as time.

“Pardon me?” She adopted a nervous affect as she approached, eyes downcast. “You’re Rachel, right?”

The other woman tore her gaze from the plaque in front of her, violet eyes locking on baby blue. “Do I know you?”

“Anna. I work - worked at Wayne Enterprises. I’m really sorry to do this, but...there’s something you need to know.”

She regarded her silently and the blonde fought the urge to fidget. There's something off about her. What were you thinking, Damian? Finally, Rachel nodded once, crossing her arms. Anna smiled internally and fiddled anxiously with her hands, doing her best to look miserable.

“I was Tim’s assistant until Damian fired me yesterday,” she began, voice weepy. “Tim’s the one who told me about you, I swear I didn’t know before.”

Rachel’s eyes narrowed, something dark and inscrutable flashing in and out of her gaze. “...Excuse me?”

Anna took the low anger in her voice as an encouraging sign and continued. She dropped her eyes again and let out a harsh sob. “I’m not the kind of person who fools around with other women’s boyfriends, and-"

A massive burst of black and red interrupted her thoughtfully planned speech, demolishing the stone plaque next to them and knocking her to the ground. She screamed, covering her head  with her arms. A bomb? What’s happening?

Before she could get her bearings, something hauled her up by the throat, slamming her painfully against a tree. She blinked against the white spots in her vision and the dust in the air, squinting to see what held her. 

Four slitted golden eyes met her own, radiating fury so thick she could almost taste it. I’m seeing things. I hit my head and I’m seeing things. The devil tightened its hold on her neck and stepped closer, heat pouring off its red skin. Terrified beyond anything she’d ever felt, Anna felt her bladder let go. 

“Did you fuck Damian?” it - she - asked in a deadly calm voice.

“Wh-what?” she croaked. No way...what the fuck is she?!

“Answer, mortal.”

She sobbed in her grasp, all her carefully crafted lies flying away in the wake of her terror. “No! I just kissed him!”

The claws (claws?!) around her neck tightened and she felt warm trickles of blood start to seep down into her collar. 

“That - that’s all! That’s all I did! I’m sorry!” she cried, “I’m so sorry! It won’t happen again!”

“I know.”

Shadows wrapped around the two of them and she screamed.

-

Stupid, stupid woman, Damian thought furiously, raising his eyes from the weeping figure on the floor. He’d put it together fairly quickly after walking in the door, and was currently kicking himself for not considering this possibility. She’s clearly deranged, I shouldn’t be surprised she approached Raven.

The woman in question sat in a nearby armchair, looking every bit the queen of hell she was. Her demonic appearance and the regal way she carried herself in this form lent their mundane bedroom at Wayne Manor the feel of some macabre court.

“Something to confess?” his demoness asked lowly. 

“I was going to tell you when we returned home. This is the exact situation I was trying to avoid.” Sparks of black and red magic at her fingertips told him that was the wrong thing to say. 

“You think a couple hundred miles would have saved her from me when I found out? I would cross entire universes.”

The woman before her seemed to curl in further on herself, as if trying to become a smaller target. Prayers fell from her lips, whispered and unintelligible.

 “She’s not worth it. I would have made you see that.”

“That’s not your decision to make. You are mine, this was a challenge to me. A proper demon would have brought just the head.”

A loud wail met her words and golden eyes flicked downwards, oozing contempt. Damian felt a thrill race down his spine. He'd never seen her this angry - possessive. The idea that he was the catalyst, that his composed, serene Raven was burning so brightly over a stolen kiss made his blood tingle. 

Apparently feeling the weight of the demon’s stare, she covered her head with her hands and tried to choke back her cries. A prey-like instinct to hide taking root. 

He swallowed before speaking, mindful of the thin ice he was on. “I know you’re upset, but you can’t kill her.”

An amused sound escaped her, and Damian wasn’t entirely sure how to interpret it. “Beloved?”

She finally met his eyes again, clearly unhappy with the situation. “Fine. But if I ever see or sense this creature near you again, I will tear her apart slowly. Testor ego eam.”

With that, she waved a hand and the other woman vanished in a rush of black. He didn’t bother to ask where, not wanting to push his luck with Raven right now. Hysterical as the other woman was, no one would believe anything she had to say anyways. 

The demoness crossed her arms, studying him silently. She seemed to have no intention of changing back to her human form. Oh. 

“I suppose I’m in trouble as well?”

“Lies deserve punishment. And you need to be reminded who you belong to.”

“You, habibti. Always.”

Her smile offered nothing but trouble and his heart started to pick up. "That’s a start."

“Oh?” he asked her, not moving from the spot where he stood. It seemed that court was still in session, and her final judgement on his own transgressions had not yet passed. 

She picked at a claw unhurriedly, hooded eyes flicking over his figure. Not one to back down, he met her appraising stare inch for inch.

“Did you know that demons mate for life?” she asked without warning. 

“No, beloved,” he breathed. The information was new but it hardly mattered. He had already decided that he was going to spend the rest of his life with her long before they ended up together. He just wondered why she felt it necessary to mention now. 

“It’s a sacred bond. Actually sacred, unlike human marriages. Challenging it is the worst insult one demon can deal to another.” Her eyes narrowed, and her claws seemed to sharpen before his eyes.

“She wasn’t a-”

“No one will threaten our bond. Do you understand, mate?”

Dear gods. 

He resisted the urge to lick his lips, instead pressing them firmly together. “You should know that you will never be at risk of losing me, beloved.” 

“I know. I also know you will never lie to me again.” The demoness waved a clawed hand before resting it underneath her chin. She was waiting for him. He swallowed again.

“What can I do to make amends?” 

Her grin widened, boarding on malevolent, as if she finally found the answer she was looking for. Lifting effortlessly from her chair, she began to stride across the room to him with measured steps. 

“I have a few ideas.” She purred. 

“Oh?” he asked again, displeased at how out of breath he sounded. 

Golden eyes held his own, and she didn’t speak again until she was just an arm's length away from him. 

Then she pointed at her feet. “Kneel.” 

He felt his jaw go slack. She wants me to do what? 

She cocked her head at his hesitation. “You will not kneel for your demoness?” She clicked her tongue in distaste. “Don’t you want to remedy your indiscretions?”

He set his jaw, barely suppressing a wince.  When she put it that way, there was no reason not to kneel before her, even if the thought of doing so went against every instinct in his body. He did, after all, lie to her, and if this was what she wanted from him then who was he to deny her?

Besides, there would be an opportunity for her to return the favor. I’ll make sure of it. 

Revealing nothing, he stared at her impassively and slowly dropped to one knee, biting back a scowl as her smirk grew. 

Then, he watched as a slender leg poked out from the slit of the dress she was wearing, and a strappy, black heel. He gave her a simmering look, then took it in his hands without a word, and pressed a kiss to her ankle, trailing up the side of her calf. 

“That’s very nice, mate.” She murmured, resting a clawed hand onto this shoulder. “What else are you willing to do for me?” 

A light smirk replaced his features. She was asking him to seduce her. To fuck her. That was something he would be more than willing to oblige. 

He promptly stood to his feet and grabbed her wrist, pulling him into his chest. To his amused delight, she went pliant in his arms— nearly purring as he captured her lips with his. He kissed her thoroughly, drowning out the memory of the other gods-awful kiss that’d been forced upon him. 

Then a clawed hand traveled his cheek lightly, moving its way to the back of his head. She suddenly grabbed a fistful of his hair and tugged downwards, tearing his lips from hers. He hissed when sharpened teeth latched themselves on his neck, nipping at the exposed flesh there before soothing it with her tongue. 

Then she began to walk forward, forcing him to step with her— until the back of his knees touched the mattress of their bed. 

“Meus es tu.” She said lowly, and she pushed at his chest, sending him backwards.

It turned into a battle for assertion. One that he admitted he thoroughly enjoyed— and intended on winning. 

He took her with him, grabbing her waist to position her underneath. His smile was smug when he peered down into four golden slits, obviously dissatisfied at the turn of events. 

Ignoring her bared teeth, he nudged open her legs with one knee before settling between them, then rolled against her in one swift movement, taking pleasure in the way she threw her head back with a growl. 

He continued his ministrations, trailing hot kisses down her neck, just as she did to his moments before. One hand reached up to graze her breast as his kisses went farther down the middle of her chest, while his other hand roamed over the swell of her hips. 

Raven in turn, was growing more frustrated with every second he kept her distracted with his teasing, light touches. 

“Enough.” It was a command.

By the time he managed to blink he found himself on his back and she was straddling his waist. 

Her hands encased with her dark magic. “Alliges duplicia.”

His arms lit up with her magic and they were forced above his head. When he tried to bring them back down he was met with resistance. What the hell? When he looked up his eyes widened with realization. She bound my fucking hands to the headboard. 

“Raven.” He snarled in warning, tugging on his bonds. The demoness was unperturbed by his outburst. 

“You will submit to me, mate.” A dangerous red swirled in those golden irises, and he clenched his jaw in response, then bit back a groan when she brushed against his length. 

“Let me go.” He glared. 

“I will not. This is your punishment. You will stay like this until you beg for me.”

“Tch.” 

He detested how painfully hard he was. His erection strained against his trousers, and he couldn’t contain his next groan when she palmed him. 

It didn’t matter how much he wished she’d slip her hand underneath his belt. He would not beg. 

She began to strip slowly, until she was completely bare before him, and then she peeled off his pants carefully— and then his shirt. His full erection was on display for her, and he released a strangled noise in the back of his throat when she settled her heated core against him.

She chuckled darkly when he twitched underneath her. “Say please.” 

“No.” he gritted out, breath hitching when her mouth latched onto one of his nipples, nipping roughly. Her tongue flicked it right after, mixing the pain she had caused with pleasure. 

“No?” Her claws wrapped around his throat, squeezing in warning. “You are in no position to deny me, mate.” 

He just glowered.

“Fine.” She relented, retracting her claws. “You will break eventually.” 

Her fingers lifted to her full breasts, reddened from her true form, and her fingers began to tease one darkened nipple into a tight peak. The bonds went taut when he pulled at them roughly in an attempt to reach out to her. She noticed this and smirked as she teased her other nipple, then rocked against him. They groaned together.

He watched as she then slipped one hand down to her core and began to tease herself, parting her folds before slipping a finger inside while grazing against his cock. 

She moaned, mouth parting slightly and he growled again in protest. That should be his fingers inside of her. 

“If you insist on not obeying me, then I will use you for my own pleasure.” She sunk down onto his cock and his head hit the wall with his groan. Fuck, she felt so damned good and the pace she was setting set him on a steady course towards an impending orgasm, regardless of how much he despised not being in control. 

“Beloved.” He growled when she brought him to the brink all too soon, then slowed back down while teasing her clit with her own fingers. Quick, circling motions that revealed her own need to him— that she was nearing her own orgasm. 

He caught her hitched breath. She was losing resolve, caught in her own wave of pleasure. 

“Release me.” He tugged on his bonds again and bucked his hips into her for good measure. “I want to be the one to fuck you when you come.” 

She gasped and clenched around him, drawing him even deeper. “I will come soon. If you want to fuck me, you must beg now.” 

He cursed. Goddamn her. 

“Please, habibti. I am yours.” 

With a victorious smirk, she waved a hand. That smirk was short-lived however, because as soon as the bonds disappeared he lunged for his little demoness, twisting them both before pulling out of her to roll her onto her stomach. 

“You are mine too, Beloved. I will also make sure of that,” he snarled into her ear, teasing his cock at her entrance. His hands held her pressed against the bed. 

The demoness laughed, then inhaled sharply when he pushed into her with one swift movement. They were both right at the edge, only a few more thrusts was all it would take to throw them both over.

“I can feel how close you are,” He reached a hand underneath her to press his thumb directly against her clit, “Come with me, now.” 

She cried out— a sound that was more animalistic than human, and she fluttered around him. He fell shortly after, nearly seeing stars. He continued to thrust languidly, drawing out their orgasms. Vaguely, he watched as Raven’s skin turned from red to flushed ivory. One pair of eyes turned to peer up at him instead of two, and the color of her irises receded to lavender. 

For a moment he watched her transform, breathless. 

She smiled up at him as her breathing returned to normal and he returned it before dropping his face to her neck. “I’m going to have to make you jealous more often,” Damian murmured into her skin. 

Raven snorted, lifting a hand to run through his sweat-soaked hair. “Unwise. Not only will I definitely kill the next one, it will hurt the entire time she is dying.”

“Green is a good color on you, habibti.”

She said nothing, but he could feel her contentment in the gentle run of her fingers across his hair and skin. As post-orgasmic clarity continued to take hold a question popped into his mind and he leaned up to regard her.

“When were you planning on telling me we were essentially demon-married?”

She flushed. “Eventually. Are you...did you not want…?”

He silenced her with a kiss, letting his actions and strength of his emotions answer her question. As though he could ever give this up, or stomach the idea of either of them being with someone else. 

After all, Damian didn’t share either.

[aethelflaedladyofmercia]

Visibility (Good Omens Fic)

Written for Lesbian Visibility Day, 2021

(26 April, 1972)

“What did you szzay?”

Beelzebub glared at the empty space before zir throne, listening to a pair of feet shuffle awkwardly.

“I just…woke up like this,” Crowley explained, in what was probably supposed to be a casual voice. “At first, I thought I was coming down with something. Flu. Hangover. Allergies. All very contagious this time of year. Really, if you haven’t been to Earth before, April is – just wait at least another month. But then I realized, s’not going away, and I thought: curse. Definitely a curse. Probably one of those angels, thwarting and all, you know how they are.”

“An angel.” The Prince of Hell tapped one finger on the arm of the throne, swarm of flies flitting around, trying to make sense of what zir own eyes weren’t telling zir. “Iszzn’t that hideouszz pieczze of real esztate you live in warded?”

“Probably. You know how it is. Get home late, really tired, swear you locked the door, but…” The footsteps – echoing as those ridiculous heeled boots struck the ground – began to circle the room. Beelzebub didn’t keep many possessions – at least, not the material sort – but Crowley seemed determined to touch them all. “Anyway, you know angels. Clever bastards.” An ornate dagger on the far table began to spin. “Or witches. Not quite as bastardly, but they cause trouble. Oh, or a cursed artifact.” Papers began rearranging themselves. “I just…I haven’t been thrift shopping in years, you know, not really my scene, not anyone’s scene anymore, but I saw this really spectacular jacket, I thought, what the Heaven? Might have some age-old horrific curse, or bedbugs, but it’s going to look stunning on the dance floor.”

Pinching zir nose, Beelzebub tried not to imagine the foolish way she was probably grinning. “And by complete coinczzidenzze,this angel, witch or…garment, juszzt happened to make you completely inviszzible on the day of your department budget review?”

“Yup.” A selection of goblets toppled to the floor with a clatter, bouncing and spinning across the floor. One rolled as if kicked, but not even Beelzebub’s cleverest flies could locate the blasted demon who had caused the mess. “I mean, not just a coincidence. Plenty of reasons. Er. The angel. Just last week, that – uh, that Aziraphale, I foiled one of her plans. Thoroughly. Foiled like…like leftover chicken. So. This could be revenge. Very unfortunately timed, but you know.”

“Indeed.” Beelzebub rose, stalking from zir throne across the floor to the spot that most strongly radiated incompetence. “And the curszze breakerszz haven’t been able to turn you back?”

“I mean, they tried.” More footsteps, hastier now, so that the echoes made them harder to track. “Course they tried. But,” she clicked her tongue, “couldn’t do it. Said they’d never seen anything like it before.” Ze would have to speak with them. No, too much trouble. Beelzebub would send the Hellhounds to take care of those idiots. “But, they did say it should wear off in…twenty-four to forty-eight hours. You know. With bed rest. Pity about the budgetary review.”

“How szzo?” Ze asked, lip curling. Every twenty-five years, like clockwork, like the courses of the blessed stars, the day of Crowley’s review, something – something highly improbably – tried to disrupt things.

“Well. I mean. Bed rest. Suggested by your curse breakers. And anyway. Can’t go like this, can I?” One of the goblets floated up from the floor, spinning in an unseen hand. “Might be disruptive.Wouldn’t want to draw attention away from Dagon – I heard, she has some fantastic charts this year. Pie graphs. One of those ones with the dots and the lines. Look at this!” From behind Beelzebub’s throne floated a ceramic pot filled with tall green plants, three dozen flies happily flitting around the attractively scented leaves. “Is this dill? Excellent choice. I’ve been doing some gardening lately, too, and let me tell you—”

“I cannot imagine anything” Beelzebub snapped, snatching the plant out of her invisible hands, “that could make you more diszzzruptive than you already are. But it appearszz you can szztill szzee, hear, and – unfortunately – szzpeak.”

“Just lucky I guess.” More pacing.

“Szzo. Dagon will be exzzpecting you in…four and a half minuteszz. I’m czzertain everyone iszz eagerly awaiting your planszz for the coming quarter-czzentury. Dagon, at leaszzt, could probably uszze the…amuszzement.”

“Course. Right. Perfect.” The footsteps began to lead towards the door. “I’ll just—”

“Szztop.” Beelzebub’s hand flew out, snapping tight around the demon’s wrist exactly as she walked past. “The otherszz will need to szzee where you are.”

“I could whistle,” she volunteered, launching into something that sounded like a tortured bird.

The Prince considered ripping her arm off and stuffing it down her throat, but the last time ze did that, the satisfaction hadn’t been worth the days of cleanup.

“Juszzt put on a hat or szzomething.”

A snap of fingers, and a band of glittering silver cloth appeared around where her waist should be. “Better? Can I go now? I’m…extremely eager to start my presentation. Ngk. Everyone is going to be impressed. This – this decade is going to put me on the map.”

“Go.”

The silver band of cloth sauntered out of the room, echoing the moronic way the demon walked. Checking the dill plant for damage, Beelzebub lowered zirself back onto the throne.

Which had, inexplicably, moved several inches back, causing zir to fall onto the floor, the potted plant shattering. “Crowley!”

--

“Brilliant, just brilliant,” Crowley muttered, stalking down the hall towards the meeting room. She’d spent a week putting this curse together, combining ones from six of Aziraphale’s most obscure grimoires, and yet she still had to make her bloody presentation. “Next time, I’ll just give myself the plague.” That had almost worked in the fourteenth century. Just needed a more impressive plague.

Ahead on the right, a door with a piece of paper taped on it reading Temptation Department Budget Group Lambda. She hesitated, fingers hovering just short of pushing it the rest of the way open. Had Beelzebub warned everyone she was invisible? More often, ze expected demons to take care of such things themselves, on pain of pain. Two minutes to spare; might as well try.

Crowley dropped the silver belt on the floor outside and slipped through the partially-open door, transforming her extremely cool boots into a pair of quieter slippers. That, at least, she could do without being sensed; shifting the shape of her feet didn’t alert the other demons the way a real miracle would.

A dozen of them sat in chairs around the conference table, grumbling about their project proposals, miracle allotments, and soul quotas. An overhead projector sat at the front of the room. It was the one with the cracked glass, projecting a broken circle of light onto a white wall. Dagon stood beside it, shuffling papers.

Crowley could try writing dirty words on a couple of the pre-made transparencies, but that didn’t seem properly demonic. Scanning the room, she spotted the wheeled coffee cart tucked in the corner, laden with a coffee pot, Styrofoam cups, plate of pastries and various flavorings. Horrid stuff. All demons were required to drink three cups of it per meeting, and to eat one of the scones, which this time appeared to be…pickled herring flavored? With orange marmalade?

There wasn’t much she could do to make that worse. She grabbed a few anyway, tucking them down the front of her shirt, and dumped the marmalade into the molten coffee, turning the temperature up as high as it would go. She’d managed to grab a fistful of wet soil and some dill from Beelzebub’s plant. Most of that went into the coffee pot, a little into the sour creamer, and the rest into the alleged sugar – probably an artificial sweetener, those were all the rage lately.

What else? She stole all the spoons, then pulled off an earring and started poking holes in the bottom of the cups with it.

With the perfect sense of timing honed from millennia of avoiding one more second in the company of her coworkers than necessary, Crowley managed to slip out the door, put on the belt, and waltz back in exactly as Dagon demanded, “Where is the demon Crowley?”

“Sorry, sorry. Feeling a bit under the weather today.” Only about three demons glanced her way with some level of surprise; the rest just got up and headed over to get their first requisite cup of coffee. “You wouldn’t believe the morning I’ve had. And the traffic! The roads just get worse every year. Anyway, here now. Ready and eager. Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” She snagged an empty seat and dropped into it, crossing her boots on the table with a heavy thud.

Dagon sighed. “Do I even want to know what happened this time?”

“Pissed off an angel. Utterly ruined her plans. Cursed me out in the most unbelievable language, and then, well, you see. Or don’t see.”

It was certainly true enough. Aziraphale had been very upset when the “fine dining establishment” Crowley had selected for their meet-up turned out to be the hottest disco in the city. And the way she managed to express her disappointment while technically not swearing certainly strained credulity.

“Did you kill her?” Ligur asked. So unimaginative.

“No, I did something much worse.” She’d dragged Aziraphale onto the dance floor and managed almost twenty-three seconds of enthusiastic disco next to her before the angel – now bright red and flustered – had stormed out entirely. “But, we’re not here to talk about me. Let’s have it. Numbers. Spreadsheets. I heard a rumor we might see that climate change graph.”

A general groan ran around the table.

“Shut up,” Dagon snapped. “Listen up, you lot – all you idiots, and Crowley in particular. Every one of you worthless wastes of matter needs to explain what you’re going to do in the next quarter-century, how that’s going to secure souls for our Master, and why we should waste any number of miracles on your pathetic hides. Until then—”

With an icy shiver, Crowley felt her miracles vanish.

“Now. Let’s start on the success rate of last quarter-century, and if I hear one word of complaint, you can scream it from the bottom of a sulfur pool. And don’t forget your blessed coffee.”

As Dagon started her presentation, Crowley watched the coffee cart. Someone had helpfully wheeled it next to the conference table, so the demons could more easily torture themselves. Seven managed to soak their shirts and trousers from leaking cups before the marmalade clogged the pot entirely. That, however, would never be enough to cancel the meeting. Heaven, a few of them even said it tasted better than usual. Should have seen that coming.

Still. It was a start.

Crowley played with her earring, then grinned, thinking of a possibility.

“Ow!” she shouted dramatically. “Something bit me!”

“Wasn’t me,” Hastur said sullenly.

“W—no, I mean. Some kind of insect.”

“Don’t see one,” grunted another demon called Krang, sitting right beside Crowley.

“It’s right there!” Silence. Oh, right, no one could see her pointing. “There! On the coffee pot!”

Eyes narrowing, Krang leaned forward, glaring across the table at the pot, which was rattling slightly. Crowley jabbed them in the back of the neck with her earring.

“Arg! It got me!” Krang slapped at the spot, leaping out of their chair. “Did you see where it went?”

“There! On Hastur’s head!”

“Where—?” Hastur managed before Ligur swatted him so hard he fell out of his chair.

“Ah, shit!” Crowley shouted. “It got me again! No, wait, I think it’s a different one.” The demons anxiously glanced at each other, but no one else stood up. Not enough. “Oh, no! My…my hand!” Crowley tried to think of something suitable “It’s burning! Like Holy Water!” She jabbed the earring into the arm of the demon on her other side.

“Bloody—It got me too!” He was on his feet in an instant. “I can feel it burning already!”

“And me!” That demon wasn’t even near Crowley. She grinned. It was working.

“What are these things?”

“I can feel it crawling on my leg.”

“My neck is swelling up!”

“Sit down!” Dagon snapped, baring her teeth. “I don’t want to hear another word about bloody insects. You’re demons. Act like it! Or I’ll make it four cups.”

The room froze – silent, apart from the now-continuous rattle of the coffee pot – as a dozen demons weighed the fear of some sort of terrifying unseen holy insect versus drinking more of the vile brew.

So Crowley ripped a handful of scone out of her top and crumbled it. “What – my hair!” She tossed the crumbs across the table. “Are – are those larvae?”

Everyone shuffled back a few steps.

“I don’t think you heard me—” Dagon started, in a tone that suggested Crowley was about to lose the room. So she went all in.

“Oh, Satan!” She shouted, falling dramatically from her chair. “They’re – they’re crawling into my ears!” That earned a few nervous glances, so she took a deep breath and gave her best horror-movie scream. “That angel! She did something to me!”

“Crowley!” Dagon shouted. “Stop acting out right now,or I swear to Satan, I’ll—”

She never found out what Dagon wanted to do to her, though, because at that moment the coffee pot exploded, lid flying off, scalding brown liquid splashing in every direction, along with blobs of now-runny marmalade.

Never one to let an opportunity go by, no matter how unexpected, Crowley cried, “Eggs! They’re nesting in the coffee! Who drank that?”

A perfect panic set in, and there was nothing Dagon could do to stop all the demons – including Crowley – from evacuating the room.

--

In the confusion that followed, everyone lost track of a certain invisible demon. How sad. And totally unexpected, Crowley thought, climbing into the Bentley. Too bad I kept the radio off and didn’t go to the cinema. Otherwise, they could summon me back. If she were careful, she could have days to finish coming up with her proposal.

But first, a little fun. Grinning, she tapped her fingers on the steering wheel, wondering what kind of trouble she could get into next.

Well. One way to find out.

The London police were extremely disappointing that morning. It took nearly eight minutes of driving around at top speed, running red lights, and blaring her horn outside rich-looking homes before one finally started chasing her.

Slamming into top gear, she raced down the busiest streets, whipping around corners, weaving through traffic, making sure not to get too far ahead. The second patrol car joined in somewhere near Oxford Street, the third during a quick jaunt up towards Regent’s Park. When she’d collected four, sirens blaring as they struggled to keep up with her flawless driving, she spotted a side street and lurched into it with a complicated 270-degree-spin finished with the nose of the Bentley facing the approaching cars.

Then she settled back in her seat and waited.

--

The black monstrosity finally slid to a stop. Officer Mills kept her eyes on it while her partner slowed their own car to a stop.

“We sure he’s not just going to run?” She asked, trying to spot the driver. The glare off the windshield must be playing tricks on her eyes; she couldn’t see a thing.

“We surround it,” Harmon said. “Got to be enough of us, even if they try to make trouble.”

Six officers eased out of their cars, silently trying to decide who should approach the window. Mills won – or lost – and took the lead, Harmon close behind her. He was the only one armed; she felt a little better for that, in case the driver turned out to be dangerous, though most likely she figured he would try to plow through the police cars to get away. They couldn’t do much in that case apart from try to kick the tires in passing.

“Think it’s stolen?” Harmon asked as a few others moved to try and block the street beyond the idling nightmare. “Teenagers messing around?”

“Could be,” Mills said doubtfully. “It’s vintage, though. Really old. And whoever was driving knows what they’re doing.”

Anderson waved from the far side of the vehicle. Everyone was in position. Mills nodded and walked up to the window, prepared for a lunatic – or a drunk – or someone on an awful lot of drugs.

Instead, it was completely empty.

“What…” She glanced back at Harmon. “No one. Did he bail out?”

“We’d have seen. Check the back seat.”

“Nothing. Wait. There’s…a tin of biscuits. That’s all.”

Down the street, Anderson crouched, checking underneath. Nothing there, apparently. Slowly, the police approached, one by one relaxing as they confirmed that yes – the car was empty.

The driver side window was open. Mills stuck her head in, glancing up and down. Nothing. No sign of what had happened to the driver. The engine still gently rumbled, and the door was locked. She definitely would have noticed if someone had stayed there long enough to lock it through the window.

“I’ll call to have it towed,” Harmon said, stepping back. She could hear the confused frown in his voice. “Maybe we’ll find…something…when we search it.”

By this point, even the officers who had waited in the patrol cars had joined them, crowded along the sides of the black vintage monster, testing doors and peering through windows. Mills leaned in to unlock the driver side door. “But where could he have gone?”

“She,” a soft voice said near Mills’s ear, and something tapped against her nose. “And I haven’t gone anywhere.”

Mills stumbled back as the radio burst to life.

You know the day destroys the night Night divides the day…

Everyone spun in place, looking for the source of the music from a nearby window or door, shouting at shadows, so only Mills was watching as the pedals and gear stick moved themselves.

Tried to run Tried to hide Break on through to the other side Break on through to the other side…

The ghost car – what else could she be? – shot backwards up the street, faster than should have been possible, spun a full 360-degree turn, then straightened up and drove away, blending into traffic with a cheerful toot of the horn.

Mills finally blinked.

“Harmon?” She called. “You do the paperwork on this one. I need a drink.”

--

Crowley danced in her seat far more than she usually would, but for once no one could see her.

Made the scene Week to week Day to day Hour to – Crowley!

She nearly slammed on the brakes as Jim Morrison began to sound an awful lot like Dagon. Shit. Forgot about that.

“Ahhhh…speaking?”

“Who, exactly, gave you permission to leave?”

“Oh. Ahhh.” She glanced out the window at a row of businesses and pulled over in front of some kind of barber shop. “I thought, what with all the insects—”

“There were no insects!”

“There weren’t?” Crowley really needed to work on her innocent voice. “I must be hallucinating. Better go home and lie down until it passes.”

“Crowley. Your budget proposal is due by the end of the day. Do you want to be stranded up there without miracles? Do you know what we do to demons who fail to meet their quotas?”

She knew that. She’d been told, several times, exactly what to expect. “Nnnnnh…I’ve got – it’s going to be a big project. Very big. More souls than…than wasps have larvae. Just need to work on my proposal in a secure, bug-free location.”

“Crowley! Do you think for one second—”

“Ah! They’re coming out of the radio!” Crowley cut the sound.

She sat in the Bentley, tapping her fingers on the wheel.

I just hung up on Dagon. They’re going to kill me. Worse, they’re going to send me down to file in the archives for a thousand years.

Then again, they’d have to find her first.

And, she was finding, her current state presented the kind of temptations even a demon couldn’t ignore…

--

Graham Palmer had been trying to get into the barber shop for twenty minutes.

The door was stuck fast. No matter how he rattled and pulled, it wouldn’t budge, as if something enormous had pinned it shut. And yet, every time he stepped back to let other patrons try, the door opened easily, but slammed as if pulled shut whenever he approached. He even tried slipping through behind another customer, but then it stayed shut until Graham stepped back. There was just no way in.

Now he hammered on the window, trying to get his barber’s attention. “Stuart! Stuart! What the hell are you trying to pull?”

The barber looked up from his current customer, blinking in confusion, and jerked his head towards the door.

“I tried that, it doesn’t bloody work!” A young man half his age walked past, giving Graham a funny look, and pulled open the shop door. Graham dove to follow him, but again it snapped shut, almost catching his nose. He pounded the door with his fist, glaring at the customers inside. “I’m going to be late!”

Across the shop, Stuart put down his scissors and shouted something. All Graham caught was “…break my glass…”

There was an idea.

He crossed the pavement to where an ancient black car was parked, removing his jacket. Wrapping it around his arm for protection, he charged forward, bracing himself for impact.

The door swung open in front of him and before he could stop himself, Graham tripped over – something – there didn’t appear to be anything – and sprawled on his face, sliding across the linoleum floor.

“Watch yourself, dearie,” a cheerful woman’s voice said, but when he looked up, no one was there.

--

Crowley strolled around the park, her new domain, another time.

Over there, at the edge of the path, was the Strange Chill area. Anyone who paused there, perhaps studying the slightly askew sign that seemed to indicate the exit was in the fountain, would feel a touch on their shoulder, a tickle on the back of their neck, or hear heavy breathing with no source.

Over here, near the ice cream cart, was the Creepy Bush. Originally just generic ghost noises, Crowley eventually discovered what really freaked humans out was a disembodied voice whispering their name, or something they’d said in private a few minutes before. She followed strolling couples around, listening in on anything good, and when one stopped to by the other ice cream, just really let loose on the one standing by the bushes. They usually started clinging much more closely to their partner after that, so really, Crowley was doing them a favor. Instant relationship counseling.

Across from the fountain sat the Haunted Bench. Crowley really went wild with that one. Children’s songs in a creepy voice. Branches shaking with no wind. Possessions floating away from wherever they’d been set down. Really, anything was allowed.

The narrow path leading through the tulips was the Asshole Road. Anyone Crowley caught being an asshole in her park was subtly sent that direction, pickpocketed, and then beset by bees, or at least a very convincing humming and a few pricks from an invisible earring.

The fountain itself was Rare Coins and Lost Items. Her third pickpocket victim had been carrying a tube of very powerful epoxy, and it turns out the coin-stuck-to-the-sidewalk trick was even better when you glued it underwater. A few pieces of jewelry at the bottom were also glued in place, but most of the valuables were simply tossed in or – if they weren’t waterproof – hung from the sculpture of frolicking animals in an amusing way. Crowley mostly just kept the cash, and even then only if the Assholes had been particularly cruel. So far, she’d accumulated almost five hundred pounds.

It was either the best park in London, or the worst.

She leaned against the clock – now set forty-eight and a half minutes slow – and surveyed the chaos. Two teenagers were frantically trying to get something out of the fountain, while the Asshole who’d sworn at that lovely gay couple was now soaked through, desperately trying to get his watch back from the ear of a sculpted rabbit seven feet high. That had been hard to get into place, but certainly worth it. The couple, meanwhile, were hand-in-hand, clutching ice creams and hurrying away from what had been for them the Creepy but Oddly Affirming Bush. The lady with the dog that had made a mess by the roses was trying to report the Haunted Bench to a cop, who tiredly insisted it was her lunch break and that the lady would not believe the morning she’d had.

Crowley grinned up at the sky. This – this was what it was all about. Forget budget meetings and presentations. Who did that make miserable, apart from the demons themselves? This park had everything: temptation, fear, frustration, justice, ice cream, and perfect weather.

“Hey. Hey you feathered wankers,” someone shouted, followed by the sound of rattling pebbles and angry quacking.

Tipping down her invisible shades, Crowley spotted some young idiot chucking handfuls of rocks at the ducks. Most were fleeing, but one flapped her wings, panicked and possessive, over a nest. One of the eggs had already been broken.

Looks like another volunteer for Asshole Road. Crowley was already eying their watch.

--

Every bakery has that one customer. Probably every place that sold food.

The one that demands impossible standards, not because of any particular love of fine cuisine, but just because they can.

The one that counts the blueberries in their muffin and lets you know if there aren’t enough.

The one who spends five minutes shouting, “No, not that one, that one,” while providing no other information, until their server had touched everything in the display case.

The one who complains that their brownie is too chocolatey.

The customer who somehow gets away with murder on account of being someone’s spouse, or sibling, or old school friend.

Victoria Lockwood was that customer, and as Riley watched her approach, they held their breath in trepidation.

“This scone,” she snapped, dropping her plate onto the counter, “is not right.” Then she glared at Bailey, waiting for a response.

“Is it…” Bailey’s mind raced, trying to work out what might be wrong. “The wrong flavor?” Victoria’s face only darkened. “Um. Is – is it dry?” But most of that batch had sold without a single complaint. “Did you want…more lemon curd? Or—”

“It is not hot enough.”

“Ah.” Of course. They’d taken that batch out nearly an hour ago; the next was ready to go in. “If you’re willing to wait, um…twenty minutes? I can give you the first—”

“Twenty minutes? What kind of service is that? I want my scone now.” She glanced at the tray coming out of the oven. “Why are you making me wait? What are those?”

Bailey glanced back and relaxed for a moment. “Oh – yes, I can get you one right now. They’re Raspberry Almond Butterm—”

“Disgusting!” Victoria rapped her hand against the counter. “That is not what I ordered! I demand you warm this one up, immediately.”

“I…” Bailey glanced at their coworkers, but everyone was avoiding eye contact. “That’s…I can put it back in the oven but that would probably dry—”

“Fine.” She shoved the plate towards them. “Be quick about it, young lady, I don’t like to wait.” She clearly noticed the way Bailey flinched. “If you don’t want to be mistaken for a girl, I suggest you get a proper haircut. And not that hideous shade of pink.”

“Y’s ma’am,” Bailey muttered, because some arguments would never be worth it. They took back the scone and put it on a baking tray. Maybe if it was only in the oven for a minute or two—

“Victoria Lockwood!” Bailey spun around, searching for who had called out. Not anyone else behind the counter, they all had their heads ducked, concentrating on some other tasks. But there – on the counter – a scone sat on Victoria’s plate.

She looked up from her makeup compact, smiled triumphantly, and took a bite out of it.

Her face immediately went green, and she dropped plate and pastry, running out of the bakery faster than Bailey had ever seen anyone move. They rushed forward, ready to call after her, but very much not wanting to, and picked up the discarded scone – it smelled awful, like vinegar and fish.

There was also an enormous wad of banknotes on the counter, wrapped up in a scrap of paper with a note: Kid – Don’t take that shit from anyone. Flip off your boss when you quit. <3 C

The bakery door opened and shut on its own.

--

Well, there was an entire day’s pickpocketing gone in a moment, but it wasn’t like Crowley had a better use for it. She still had a few rare coins, but after the fountain, sticking them to the ground seemed an anticlimax. She’d had some fun modifying the haunting routine for the bus or Underground, but both would be filled with commuters now a ghost that swears when you elbow her in the ribs on a crowded train is…not as impressive.

Still. Not a bad day overall. The most expensive foods in the corner marked had all been re-priced, several examples of hostile architecture had been mysteriously destroyed, enough people would be sharing stories of “hauntings” that the whole city would need to be exorcised, and – just for the Heaven of it – she’d followed a particularly annoying human for almost an hour, up and down the streets, buzzing in his ear.

Really, it was the simple pleasures that made the world so enjoyable.

And speaking of simple pleasures, Crowley had left one particular part of the city for last.

Strolling down the streets of Soho, which was just waking up while more respectable – but far less fun – parts of the city were winding down, she kept her eyes open for anyone who might make a good target. A few possibilities presented themselves, but in the end her destination proved the stronger draw.

A. Z. Fell’s Bookshop.

It was just the right time of day, when the customers would still be bothering Aziraphale, and she would be running short of patient ways to refuse them and start turning to biting sarcasm and, on occasion, outright threats. She’d probably appreciate a little haunting to help chase them off, once Crowley had finished stealing her cocoa, moving her bookmarks, and changing the record in the gramophone.

But, glancing in the window, Crowley saw something that poured cold water all over her brilliant day.

Gabriel.

Michael and Uriel, too. Probably Sandalphon lurking around.

Aziraphale stood before her bosses, hands clutched anxiously, that eager, ready-to-please face that made Crowley’s chest ache. Some, when faced with the beings who had hurt them so many times, became afraid, or angry, or distressed. But Aziraphale…just wanted approval. A kind word.

Crowley glared at Gabriel. The Heaven are you up to this time?

For once, she would be able to find out.

--

“And, I really think,” Aziraphale said, hands twisting like captured rodents as she rambled, “that this past decade in particular,I’ve – I’ve accomplished many things. Um. I – I prepared a list…somewhere…” her eyes darted to the disaster she called a desk, and she started shifting material objects around, smiling nervously. Guiltily.

“Is this going to take long?” Gabriel asked with a pointed sigh.

“No! I just…one moment…”

“We’re already running late,” Uriel commented. “We’d expected you to be better prepared.”

“Of course.” Aziraphale snatched up a book and began flipping through it frantically, as if it might contain the answers she needed. “Only, ah, you didn’t actually say when you would be coming…”

“We did say between the 3rd of January and 28th of October,” Michael pointed out reasonably.

“Oh. Um. I…”

“Something doesn’t seem…right,” Sandalphon said, stepping close to Aziraphale, putting a hand on her shoulder. The book she held tumbled from her fingers. “This whole place has a…smell about it.”

The door slammed behind them. Gabriel glanced back, but couldn’t see it from where he stood. Sandalphon gave Aziraphale’s shoulder another squeeze, then headed over to check on it.

“I thought,” Gabriel said slowly, making sure the slow-witted Principality heard every word, “I told you to lock the door.”

“It was.” Aziraphale’s eyes had gone wide. “I – I mean I did.”

Gabriel pursed his lips and shook his head. This had been a particularly disappointing review. Disappointing in the sense that their agent had once again conclusively failed to present evidence of meaningful victories towards Heaven’s cause. Less disappointing in that, whether she knew it or not, Aziraphale had already given him what he needed to take the arrogant fool down a few pegs.

In six thousand years, she’d barely managed to do a single thing right, yet somehow always came to him simpering and smiling like she deserved all the accolades of Heaven. Well, he’d been patient, as suited an Archangel, as patient as he could. But once per century, he had the opportunity to make his opinion perfectly clear.

Take away her miracles for a start, he thought. Though that didn’t seem to work nearly as well as it had a few centuries ago. Maybe recall her to Heaven for a year or two, re-educate her on the basics of her duty. There might be enough for a period of isolation. With restraints. They’d done that once, about three thousand years before, after a particularly poor review. Seven years chained up in an empty corner of Heaven, and Aziraphale had been wonderfully pliable for centuries after. Perhaps it was time to revisit.

“Look – look here, I have a list of…oh.” Aziraphale held out her book again, which seemed to be filled with irregular scrawl instead of the usual neatly printed words. “I started a list of accomplishments, but ah…I became busy the last few years. Um. Quite a lot has happened since…”

Uriel took the book and studied it, face impressively calm. “Interesting,” they said, not giving anything away as they turned the pages over. Gabriel trusted them to spot anything useful.

As the Archangels waited in pointed silence, Michael walked her fingers across a table. She pressed a thumb against a book, sliding it to the edge. Aziraphale stared as it teetered, then found its balance again. Michael watched it, disinterested, then moved on to another book, sliding that forward as well.

Sandalphon stepped back beside Gabriel, shrugging his shoulders. No sign of anything. Well. More questions for later.

Uriel reached the final page.

“What happened in 1967?”

“Nothing!” At the panic in Aziraphale’s tone, all four Archangels raised their eyebrows. “I – I – I mean, yes, lots, many – many—” One of the books beside Michael fell to the floor with a slap. The Principality winced. “I – I’m terribly sorry, could you be more specific?”

“Your final entry,” Uriel held the book out to Aziraphale, “says 1967 – Prevented… Prevented what?”

“Ahhhhhh.” Aziraphale squirmed. “Well, I…I…there was…ummm…”

“As I recall,” Michael said slowly, “you briefly visited Heaven that year, but didn’t officially report to any of us. And then didn’t return for at least…six months? Very unusual.”

“You haven’t been hiding something, have you?” Gabriel smiled, his heart rising. More than isolation. He could probably take away this shop, for a start, give it to a more trustworthy angel.

“Nnnnno.” Aziraphale gave that particular smile, the one that meant she thought she was about to get away with something. The one she thought Gabriel didn’t know about. “But, ahhh, if you could, um, quite a lot happened in the world in the…the last ten years or so.”

Something crashed on the other side of the building. No, he’d have the place demolished. It was falling apart already. Aziraphale could watch. Maybe he could order her to help. An eminently suitable punishment for wasting his time. “As I understand it,” he said, taking a step forward, “the last decade saw…war, riots, assassinations…”

“Well, well, yes, I…but, if you look at progress with, um, civil rights, ahh…anticolonialism…”

More made-up human terms. Gabriel and Michael shared a pained glance. “Look. Aziraphale.” Gabriel pressed his hands together. “It’s not that we don’t appreciate you taking the initiative, but…what does any of this have to do with your orders?”

“Or, for that matter, with your visit to Heaven?” Michael moved her fingers across the table again, coming to rest on one of those stupid little figurines Aziraphale had accumulated. Like a packrat. A human depiction of an angel, as some kind of soft, happy baby with wings. Not a warrior at all. Michael’s finger tapped against it. “What were you trying to prevent?”

“Did it have something to do with…Holy Water?” Sandalphon suddenly asked.

“That’s right,” Gabriel said. Something clicking in his mind. “There was that storage jar that went missing.” Did Aziraphale look more guilty than usual? “What year was that?”

“1967,” Uriel said.

He couldn’t hold back the smile. If he could prove Aziraphale had taken Holy Water for some sort of personal use, well.

He’d pretty much be justified whatever he decided to do.

“I – I – I can explain.” The Principality tried to back away, but was stopped by her own desk. “There – there was this demon, an – an especially, ah, wily, cunning, um, crafty demon—”

“Was there?” Michael’s finger twitched, sending the false angel off the table. It fell—

Then hovered, halfway to the floor.

Slowly, it lifted, rightening itself in the air before them. There was no trace of a miracle, no power of any kind. It simply…floated. Drifting through the air to land on the desk beside Aziraphale.

“Clever,” said Gabriel, watching the Principality’s face for any sign of deception. “How did you do that?”

“I…”

The pages of a book, laid out on the stand behind her, began to turn, flipping faster and faster, slamming shut.

“This…isn’t me.” Aziraphale said.

Behind her, books began to float off their shelves. One rocketed across the room towards Gabriel. He dodged it easily, but it was followed by another, and another. The lights flickered overhead.

“If it isn’t you,” Gabriel began, but a small table by the door to the next room began to rattle. Atop it lay a black-and-white board covered with formless carvings, which lifted into the air, then exploded, pieces flying at the Archangels. Gabriel easily batted them aside, but now one of the armchairs began to shift.

Without a word, the four prepared for battle, Gabriel stepping back, Michael and Sandalphon moving to the front. At least, that was the plan – the moment he tried to move, Gabriel fell, his feet somehow tightly bound together. The same happened to Sandalphon and Uriel, and even Michael stumbled, knocking over a table in her haste to stay upright.

Glass rattled in the back of the shop.

“It’s…” Aziraphale cleared her throat. “It’s that same demon again! I thought I’d banished her!”

“What?” Banishing wasn’t exactly something angels did.

“The – the Holy Water!” A bottle of something hovered out from the back room, moving slowly but threateningly. “Did you bring any? It’s the only thing that can stop her.”

“What are you talking about?” Michael’s sword manifested in her hand. “What demon?”

“Crowley! She – she seems to have grown even more powerful!”

“Crowley?” Not that worthless snake again. How many times had he been assured – through Michael’s secret back-channel sources – that Crowley was the most useless, incompetent, lazy demon in Hell? And yet somehow, not a single angel had ever successfully dealt with her – except Aziraphale.

“I thought I smelled a demon,” Sandalphon said, pulling his shoes off and tossing them aside. “But I can’t sense demonic power.”

“Obviously not!” Aziraphale’s wings burst from her back, and she held out a hand towards the hovering bottle. It slowly lowered itself to the ground. “Why do you think she’s so difficult to defeat? The power she uses – it’s not of Heaven or Hell! I – I can barely counter it!”

“Let me, then,” Michael said, predatory gleam in her eyes. Like Sandalphon, she’d removed her shoes; Gabriel was working on his own, but somehow the laces had become wound together like snakes, something sticky sealing the knot shut.

Sandalphon and Michael stepped forward, swords at the ready. “No!” Aziraphale turned to block them, and immediately the rattling started up again – this time from the metal stairs to the upper floor. “You – you don’t understand! Wh – when she gets like this – the fires would only make her stronger.”

Something – horrible, screeching noises – began emanating from the back room, like some animal being torn apart.

“That’s – that’s why I need the Holy Water! In the proper ritual, it – it – it’s too complicated to explain!”

A cupboard burst open, revealing a display of holy items – consecrated Bibles, holy symbols, sticks of incense and jars of oil. “No!” Aziraphale shouted, genuine panic in her voice.

The largest, heaviest of the Bibles lifted and shot across the room. It didn’t reach the Archangels, but Gabriel could see smoke rising from its cover.

Next came a crucifix, spinning end over end, which Michael caught out of the air. The wood was burned all along one side.

“Don’t you see?” Aziraphale said, eyes round. “Nothing I have in there can stop her! What could a flaming sword even do? I need more Holy Water.” A jar of oil fell to the ground and immediately began to boil, bubbling and steaming. “I’ll try to hold her back as long as I can.” Aziraphale’s face furrowed in concentration as she walked across the shop. “Please, it – it’s far too dangerous for you here…”

“Right.” Gabriel glanced at the other Archangels. Something wasn’t right. But they couldn’t risk themselves against an unknown force. “We’ll…we’ll get some Holy Water. You do what you can.”

With a thought, the ascended to Heaven.

Gabriel quickly stood up, brushing down his clothing and trying to school his expression. “Well. I think the best course of action is to wait a day or two, then go see what the damage is.”

“And Aziraphale’s review?” Uriel asked, face somehow still calm, despite everything that had happened.

“I just hope we don’t have to give her a damn commendation again.”

--

The Arch-Wankers vanished in a shimmer of blue light.

“Ow, ow, fuck that hurts!” Crowley gasped, stumbling away from the spilled oil and shaking her hands. “What kind of stuff do you keep in there?”

“Crowley!” Aziraphale started to rush forward, then froze. “Where are you? Can’t you – reveal yourself, or whatever?”

“Nnnnnnnnope. Rrrrrgh, how does this hurt more than walking in a church?”

“I…I’m sorry, my dear girl,” Aziraphale said. “I’ve been worried lately that if – if your side realized what was happening…I thought it best to have a little insurance of my own.”

“Well it works.” Crowley managed to reach one of the shop chairs and sank into it. “Over here…no, here! Where’s…” She nudged the rug with her least-burnt toe, folding a bit of it up. Aziraphale immediately ran over.

“That was – well, that was clever, Crowley, but highly unnecessary. I – I was only having my performance review. I thought I was doing quite well.” Her soft hands found one of Crowley’s and picked it up, fingers tracing across the palm.

“I…” Crowley had seen the way Gabriel’s eyes lit up at the mention of Holy Water, while she was on the ground gluing his shoelaces together, and she counted it among the most terrifying things she’d ever seen. “I’m sure you were, but vanquishing some super-powerful demon? Saving the Archangels? Well, that’s only going to help, right?”

“Hmmm.” Another brush of her fingers, and the sting started to go out of Crowley’s palms. “And, I’m sure, spark a few rumors that might help you?”

“Oh.” Crowley grimaced, looking out the windows. “Unless those rumors spread really fast, I doubt I’m going to get much benefit.”

“What do you mean?” Aziraphale sank to the ground, patting around until she found one of Crowley’s feet. She gently lifted it, stroking from ankle to toe and giving it the same healing treatment. “And why are you like this?”

“Just lucky, I guess.”

“Crowley.”

“Right. Um. I…may have…borrowed a few of your books and…designed a curse to get out of my quarter-century budget review. But in my defense – it’s so boring.”

Aziraphale sighed – or possibly blew a healing breath across Crowley’s feet. No, probably the sigh, but at least they felt a bit better. “My dear, it’s only a meeting. There’s no need for these – these histrionics.”

“Histri—Angel, that is – I am not – can you grab a dictionary? I need to know how upset I should be.”

“Extremely.”

“Right. I am. And…I thought it would only last a few hours. Have a bit of fun. But…I need my miracles for, you know, ambient healing, and…look, they cut off our miracles during the review, and only give them back once you’ve wowed them with your project idea.”

“And you don’t have one, do you?”

“Not…as such.” Crowley hung her head. “I…I thought I could get an extension. Just long enough to think of something.”

“So you cursed yourself.” That pained look, the I-hate-to-tell-you-how-much-you-failed-but-also-I-love-it look. Only slightly ruined by the fact that it was aimed somewhere over the demon’s left shoulder. “Crowley, did it never occur to you that in the time it took you create such a thing, you could just as easily have come up with a project?”

“Nh.”

“And did you come up with your brilliant idea during your delay?”

“Nnnh.”

“Well. At least you’re sorry now, I assume?”

“Nope.” If she hadn’t skipped out, Crowley wouldn’t have been here to help Aziraphale. She’d saved her friend countless times over six thousand years, but sometimes…she was quite happy the angel didn’t notice. “No, demons don’t get sorry. We get…” she grunted. “We get annoyed at ourselves for…ngk…for hanginupndagonnpissinheroff.”

“Beg your pardon?”

“For hanging up on Dagon and pissing her off.” Crowley rubbed her face. “Unless I can think of the greatest project any demon ever came up with…” Her stomach dropped as the reality of it hit. A thousand years in filing meant a thousand years without Aziraphale’s bastard looks and gentle touches. “I’m…probably going to be gone for a while.”

“Oh.” Aziraphale stroked her fingers across Crowley’s foot one more time. “No, that won’t do at all.” She looked up with that icy, determined look. The let-me-speak-to-your-manager expression that made Crowley go completely light-headed. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to do something about all this.”

“Like what?”

“How are your feet?”

“F—hmm? Oh, fine.” They were – Aziraphale seemed to have removed all the pain. Or at least, she’d removed some of the pain, and the fluttery feeling in Crowley’s chest allowed her to ignore the rest. “So. Um. What did you have in mind? Oh!” A grin stretched across her face. “Dagon and Beelzebub already think you cursed me. Maybe we can stage a second fight where they see it. I’ll definitely get an extension that way.”

“Or.” Aziraphale found Crowley’s hands again and laced their fingers together, pulling her to her feet. “We can go for a drive in that beastly car of yours and actually come up with a proper idea. Something convoluted, demonic, and with that…Crowley style.”

“I have a style now?”

“Hmmm. Yes. Not as refined as mine, but I think we can make it work.” Her right hand squeezed Crowley’s, and her left slid up the demon’s arm to her shoulder. “You know, I had a little over a century apart from you. And I have absolutely no desire to repeat that. In fact I…I rather think I prefer your company to, well. Anyone’s.”

“Nnnnh.” Crowley shuffled her feet and clutched Aziraphale’s hand back, guiding the angel to stand just a little closer. Needing to say something. Afraid to say too much. “Ssssss. Mmmm. Yeah. I, uh. I like it better up here, too. Y’know. Where you are.”

“Yes, I know.” Aziraphale’s left hand slid further up, coming to rest on the back of her neck. “I can see right through you. My dear Crowley.” With the lightest pressure, she tipped the demon’s head down.

And kissed her, soft lips covering Crowley’s shocked mouth.

“Oh…” Aziraphale gasped, pulling back slightly, hardly at all. “I, ah…I meant to…” Her breath still tickled Crowley’s lips. “I…forehead…”

“Nrrh.” Crowley’s free hand drifted forward, finding Aziraphale’s hip, resting on it, barely a touch. It was all she dared. “Ah…?”

Neither of them moved. Or both did. Or they stood still and the world around them shifted. Whichever way it was, their lips touched again, and held this time. Slowly, they drifted closer, caught in each other’s gravity, a decaying orbit. Crowley would surely burn up on approach, but it was worth every moment.

Eventually they parted, once more just enough to breathe, to speak, to remember that they were two beings and not a single, burning soul.

“Not…” Crowley swallowed. “Not too fast?”

“I…” Aziraphale bit her lip. “I don’t know. But…Crowley…I know…where I want to go. Eventually.”

Their foreheads pressed together. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Aziraphale nodded, dropping left hand falling away, right thumb rubbing the back of Crowley’s hand. Her eyes fluttered open and she gasped. “Oh, my word!”

“What?” Crowley glanced at herself, black cloth trousers flared wide at the legs, tight red sleeveless shirt cut scandalously low in the front and back, boots with heels that made her even taller than usual—

She was visible again.

“I…I suppose I was still healing you when we…oh…oh, Crowley…what are you wearing?”

“Angel, it’s – I look fashionable, you look – have you changed anything in the last century?”

“I…a few things! Were you honestly planning to give a presentation like that?”

“I was going to be invisible, yeah!”

“You…are…” Aziraphale pressed her eyes shut. “I am going to get my jacket. And then I’m going to get you a jacket, because it’s cold at night, and you are cold-blooded.”

“M’not,” Crowley muttered.

“And then we will go for our ride and determine what evil, dastardly plan I will spend the next twenty-five years thwarting. Is that clear?”

“Yes.” After a moment, Crowley said, “Ah, Aziraphale?”

“What is it now?”

“At some point, are you going to let go of my hand?”

Aziraphale glanced down. “Oh. Hmm. I suppose we’ll find out.”

--

(Fifty Years Later)

Crowley sat beneath the apple tree, her hand clutched tightly in Aziraphale’s, leaning back against her angel’s chest. “And that,” she concluded, “is why we call the 26th of April Lesbian Visibility Day.”

The Them stared at the two supernatural beings, mouths slightly open.

“You…” Pepper started, “are full of so much shit.”

“Oi!”

“Actually,” Wensley said, “that’s…one of the worst stories I’ve ever heard. How are you supposed to budget miracles?”

“If they could cut you off that easy,” Brian jumped in, “why didn’t they do it when you left Hell?”

“Oh, ummm,” she glanced up at Aziraphale.

“Tactics,” the angel said enigmatically.

Pepper didn’t even seem to be listening. “How did you know what all those people were thinking?”

“That’s right,” Wensley nodded. “Particularly Gabriel.”

“He…he has a very expressive face,” Crowley argued.

“How’d you actually move around like that, without anyone hearing you? The whole day?”

“Shouldn’t you’ve been, you know, way more worried about getting killed?”

“At least one of those bookshop attacks wasn’t even possible, unless you were in two places at once.”

“And how d’you accidentally leave your healing on?”

“How could you possibly mistake her lips for her forehead?”

“This was rubbish.”

“What do you think, Adam?”

The former Antichrist looked up from where he was playing with Dog. “I think…” He gave the angel and demon a penetrating look, then shook his head, smiling as if he’d just seen the joke at the center of the universe, and it had turned out to be a truly terrible pun. “I think you should just tell us the next story.”

“Which one’s that?” Crowley asked, settling back into the curve of her angel’s arm, fingers still twined together.

“The one with the greatest project any demon ever came up with.”

“Oh.” Grinning, Crowley tipped her head to meet Aziraphale’s shining eyes. “Wahoo.”

--

The song is "Break on Through (To the Other Side)" by the Doors, because Queen had not yet put out their first album, though there was a lot of pressure in the Discord to have Crowley dancing to Abba instead.

Final scene set next year because we'll all be sitting together under apple trees with our loved ones and telling BS stories to kids before we know it.

For everyone who contributed non-anonymous suggestions:

@amidst-innumerable-stars @tangle5ancer @fenrislorsrai @feuerkindjana @bowser14456 @taksez @yeahhiyellow @infinitevariety @gargelyfloof118 @lourek @soft-forest-rain @undertaker991 @jules-al-c @lov-lyness2 @thisleadstohollyhocks @marianrios33 @aux-barricades @lostmemimi @joybones @derederest @myusernameispie @mothmans-favorite-lamp and @n0nb1narydemon (yes I did find a way to level up the coin gluing!) and of course @5ftjewishcactus who encouraged me when you really shouldn't. Sorry I couldn't fit in everyone's suggestions!

[thoughts-on-bangtan]

Let’s talk: The importance of curating your space and the cyclical life of ships

by Admin 1

From anon: Hi! I'm a new Army/vminie (4 months) and I have a (maybe dumb) question... When I joined, I saw so many j*/k*okers analysing every small moment between jk and jm and these ppl were everywhere and I couldn't avoid seeing j*/k*ok ship content. However, the past two weeks or so it seems to have shifted and suddenly I see t*e/k*ok ship content everywhere. I wonder, is this shifting a normal occurence? And how do I get rid of these ship contents in spaces that are supposed to be free of these 2 ships

Having been around for quite some time, I’ve come to think of the big ships as something very akin to extremely sensitive seismometers. Instead of detecting even the smallest movement or noise in relation to earthquakes or volcanic activity, these ship seismometers react to any and all activity (as in any kind of “moments” or what they perceive as such) in very “volatile” manners, for a lack of better words.

What do I mean by that?

Like you said, there was a long phase after Dynamite came out where the mood had shifted toward J*k*ok because we got more content in which we could see those two interact, even if later on we also got content from the same sets and time in which both members involved were seen interacting with other members, but that didn’t matter. So, obviously, shippers took this as grand sign, the seismometer drawing numbers like ones you’d get when you have an extreme earthquake, but in this case it was a positive thing. Every new “moment” or anything they perceived as such caused big reactions, loud enough to even reach far beyond their space and instead was heard also in general ARMY spaces or those of other shippers etc. But, there’s also the opposite effect, as in, volatile reactions, or big reactions, when there are several pieces of content one after the other where said ship doesn’t interact or doesn’t have any “moments”. In cases like that euphoria quickly shifts into “insecurity” (though they would never admit to that) and worry, occasionally also defensiveness and attacks.

Imagine a scenario like this: lets say we get five Bangtan B*mbs. The first one has main ship A interact, the next one doesn’t have either of the two ships, the third one was has main ship B interact, as well as in video four and five. 

Those who were happy with the first video will be casual/neutral about the second one, but as they get the third, fourth and fifth, the seismometer for them inevitably turns from extremely positive to extremely negative. While for B it’s the exact opposite, going from negative to extremely positive with YT and sns exploding with announcements of “B ships is back” or “B are in love after all, BH has freed them” or anything along those lines.

What I’m trying to say is that yes, this is normal. The big ships and their shippers lead a very cyclical life, which also means they never quite “disappear” either. They are always there, waiting, and then jump on any piece of a moment they get with big reactions, and in the time where they have nothing, chances are the toxic part of their community will go into attack mode instead, like that will change anything at all. We’ve seen other ships come and go, nearly disappear just to have some kind of revival months or even years later, or “new” ships win the favor of the masses. There are also a few ships that have steadily existed for most of the past eight years without any volatile shifts or changes, but those are generally the quieter ones ignored or actively campaigned against/discredited ones by the big ships and their shippers. 

Hyung line ships are generally seen as more “niche”/overlooked, or just some background extras for fanfics or something ML shippers enjoy since the aren’t an active “threat”, like Namjoon x Yoongi or Yoongi x Hobi which have been around forever and I don’t think I’ve ever really seen (or heard about) anyone have fights about them or even fights between those two camps, since most shippers have an almost laser like focus on the maknaes and especially JK.

The funny thing in all of this, if you can even call it that, is that none of it really depends on the members themselves. In all this time they haven’t changed their behavior much at all, their bonds haven’t drastically or dramatically changed, and certain members didn’t magically go from “hating” each other to suddenly becoming couples over night or vise versa. It’s all shipper interpretations, theories and conspiracies being layered on top of what people see on screen to make things more “interesting”, even if that means actively going against what the members have said themselves and who the members are, as in their personalities but also in relation to each other.

And this brings me to my next point, the importance of curating your own space.

Here it’s important to know what kind of a TL or ARMY sns experience do you want. Do you want to just focus on your bias with a side of OT7 with gifs and pictures and nothing else? Do you want to have more of an eye on how BTS is doing on the charts? Have more discourse and discussions on the TL you can follow or actively participate in? Or do you want a mix of it all?

Personally I’m very picky in who I follow and what kind of content I add to my TL by following an account. Generally I think it’s important to check every account you consider following to make sure they aren’t one of the following things: akgae, manti, solo stan, toxic shipper, or a victimizing sheep. While I do follow a number of ship centric accounts, because I like seeing vmin and namjin on my TL, I find it extremely important to follow several trustworthy ARMY translators as well as a number of non-ship centric ARMY accounts that just focus on Bangtan as a whole.

The block button is your friend. I know it might seem drastic or mean to just block random people, but in the long run you will be thankful for it since it will keep toxic content away from your space, regardless if toxic in a solo stan sense or a ship one. If you’re on twt you can also mute certain words and # so they don’t show up on your TL either, make use of that if you feel a need for it. Eventually though the algorithm learns what you gravitate toward, and if you follow a well curated number of accounts, the things you don’t want to see simply won’t appear where you can see them.

On YT, as far as I’m aware, in the recommended section you can mark videos you don’t like as not being interested in them and even mark whole channels as something you don’t want to have recommended to you. Since I don’t watch any ship related videos, I never get any recommended to me despite watching BTS videos (though I mostly stick to their official accounts and wherever else they performed).

It’s important to create a space in which you just see the content you want, but still pay attention to not just bury yourself in a ship bubble since that can be a slippers slope and you might end up accidentally turning yourself toxic on accident, too sure of your thoughts and end up growing resentful moments where a member of your ship interacts with someone else in the group. That’s when you know you’ve gone several steps to far, since above all else, we are ARMY before we are vminnies or namjinists or anything else. We can love our chosen duo, we can love our bias(es), but we should always listen to what the members have to say and trust them. After all Tae (and the other members) has asked us several times to love all seven, so that’s what I do. They are all incredibly lovable, and their bonds with each other all precious and wonderful in their own ways and worthy of appreciation, so I don’t understand those who feel hatred against any of them.

Curate your space but always keep a healthy mix of general ARMY and ship content, if you are someone who partakes in shiperverse activities, and stay as far away as possible from manipulative YT videos and accounts with toxic narratives and motives. 

From anon: hey! read your new post re: curating your own space. don't know if you'll answer this, but is there any "must follow" accounts on twt (for translations, vmin, and bts in general) that you can recommend? I'm new to the site and made an account for bangtan only, but there's just so much going on there that it can get confusing. Also found out that there are many troll accs, fake 'nice' accs, too much drama accs etc that can give you a bad experience.

Here’s a large selection of translators and a smaller selection of other accounts that I think are worth following, especially BTSChartData. Also, whatever you do, don’t follow the BTS ARMY twt account with 4M+ followers or however many they might have at this point.

I’d also be very weary of member specific fanbases and chart accounts since they are known as perfect breeding grounds for solos, akgae and mantis, unfortunately, and some have been exposed for being akgae themselves.

[corie-the-writer]

Ignite - Chapter 6

Chapter 6 Chloe could not move from her seat next to Matt Casey. Her hands were trembling in her lap waiting on news about Kelly. The entire firehouse was in the waiting room, along with Adam Ruzek, who had called Hank to let him know what was happening. Chloe buried her face into her trembling hands trying to hold onto the images of that morning she had shared with Kelly. Praying to God that he would be okay. After what felt like hours, Doctor Will Halstead had came out to speak to everyone. Chloe couldn't move from her seat, afraid that if she had stood up she would fall over. The woman was thankful that her partner had moved to sit next to her as Will cleared his throat to speak. "He is conscious and stable." Will started out and Chloe let out a small sob and instantly relaxed, "He has a torn rotator cuff, several broken ribs, and a fractured knee. He did suffer from smoke inhalation." Will explained and Chloe wiped her cheeks. The co-workers all mumbled a thank god, and Chloe put her head back into her hands to take a deep breath, not seeing Will Halstead approach her. "Chloe, Kelly is asking for you." Will spoke causing Chloe to look up and give him a nod, "I'll give you a minute and then take you back." Will added, causing Chloe to mumble a thank you. . . Chloe had felt her legs shaking as she walked with Will back to Kelly's room, and her stomach began to swirl. She was aware of the doctor saying something to her, but she felt the bile begin to rise in her throat and she darted off to the nearest trash can, emptying her stomach. Will was instantly beside her. His hand on her back trying to bring her some comfort. "You okay?" Will Halstead questioned once Chloe was done emptying her stomach and gave a nod. "It's been a rough few days." Chloe dismissed seeing Will look at her with worry, "I'm fine, scouts honor." Chloe added wiping her mouth. "Let me check you over." Will stated and Chloe let out a sigh, "I wouldn't be okay with myself if I didn't." Will added. "Fine, but make it quick because Severide is impatient." Chloe stood straight and followed the doctor into an exam room a few doors away from Kelly's room. Chloe moved to sit on the small table, a headache forming from the stress of what had happened over the past few days catching up with her. "How is your head?" Will questioned, noticing the stitches. "It's fine other than having a headache." Chloe commented. "How long have you been getting headaches? Just since the injury?" Will questioned flashing a light into her eyes as she followed the pen. "Uhm, maybe." Chloe answered, "I've been getting headaches off and on the past couple off weeks. It's probably from not getting a break at work." Chloe added. Will gave a nod and then held a stethoscope to Chloe's chest to listen to her heart beat. "Your heart rate is a little high." Will commented, knowing Chloe for quite some time he had saw a difference in her appearance and wasn't sure how to bring up the next question, "Is it possible that you could be pregnant?" Will questioned and Chloe let out a laugh. "I mean, there's always a chance but I don't think so." Chloe answered, "I've always had weird periods, and stress plays a big factor into that." Chloe commented. "Would you mind if I ran some blood work just to be on the safe side?" Will questioned and Chloe groaned. Even though she was a detective and not a doctor, she was sure that she was not actually pregnant. She also knew that Will would not leave her alone until she humored him. "Fine but I expect a beer when it's all said and done." Chloe commented, then watched as Will went to grab the equipment to draw her blood. . . Chloe had gently knocked on Kelly's hospital room door and then slowly opened it to walk in. Chloe's eyes landed on him laying in the hospital bed with a black brace on his shoulder, and a brace around his knee as he laid recline in the bed. "C'mere baby..." Kelly opened his eyes at the sound of the door opening to see Chloe standing there. He took in her appearance, still looking like she had that morning they left his apartment. He had noticed the bandage on her arm, and then scanned her face, seeing tears start to build in her eyes, "C'mere Chlo..." Kelly watched as she walked towards him, moving to the bed side of his un-injured shoulder and leg. He reached out for her carefully and she laid her head on his chest and began to cry, "I'm fine..." Kelly assured her. Chloe cried for a moment the last few days catching up to her, and wiped her cheeks before looking to Kelly, "I was..." Chloe breathed out, "I was eating lunch with Ruzek and I got a picture text of your trucks at the fire from the unknown number, and I went there..." Chloe shook her head, "I heard Chief scream your name and I just... I never want to feel that again." "It's part of the job baby." Kelly spoke gently, "I felt like that when you came back from the undercover job." Kelly commented, "It's so hard seeing the woman you love with bruises from and blood all over her beautiful face and not be able to do anything about it." Kelly explained and Chloe lifted her head at his words. "What?" Chloe questioned. "I wanted to tell you a different way, but after today, I just...I love you." Kelly spoke quietly, his hand going to cup her cheek, "You are the first thing I think about when I wake up, when I go into a burning building I remind myself to come out in one piece so I can see you again." Kelly continued, "This morning, I just kept seeing your face, knowing that if I had the chance to get out, I would tell you that I'm madly in love with you." "I love you too Kelly." Chloe leaned forward to kiss his lips gently. Kelly had convinced Chloe to lay in the small hospital bed with him even though she had tried to protest but with one playful frown, Chloe had climbed into the bed carefully as she laid her head on his chest. "What happened here?" Kelly questioned to the band aid on her arm. "Oh, Will wanted to run labs." Chloe commented, "I ended up getting sick before coming in. The stress of the past few days, then everything that happened this morning." Chloe explained, "He thinks I'm pregnant, which I told him it was highly unlikely." Chloe added, never filtering anything with Severide before, so she wasn't going to start now. "What if you are?" Kelly questioned and Chloe paused for a moment. "I'm not really sure." Chloe admitted, "I don't want to freak out about it when we don't really know anything. Sort of like let's cross that bridge when we need to." Chloe added causing Kelly to chuckle, knowing just exactly how Chloe was, not wanting to worry about what ifs, she had been like that for as long as he had known her. "Is he suppose to let you know?" Kelly questioned and felt Chloe nod her head against his chest. . . Later that evening, Chloe had woken up to Kelly talking to someone, causing her to flutter her eyes open. Chloe spotted Will Halstead sitting in a chair next to Kelly's bed with a chart in his hand. "Sorry if we woke you." Will spoke with a soft smile causing Kelly to turn to kiss her forehead. "It's fine. I was starting to wake up. What time is it?" Chloe questioned. "It's going on six in the evening." Will replied, "So I got your lab results back. Chloe immediately sat up a little, making sure to avoid putting any pressure on Kelly and rubbed the sleep from her eyes as she looked to Doctor Halstead, "Do I get to go drink a beer?" Chloe questioned causing Kelly to furrow his eyebrows in confusion at the statement. Will let out a small chuckle, "Unfortunately no, not for another nine months." Will stated, "Your HCG levels were extremely high. According to the levels you're about seven weeks pregnant."

[the-hate-keeps-me-warm]

kisses and cuddles

wooooooooo time for some more fluffy shit yall i loved making this so much this sorta relted to my weed garden fic but you dont need to read it (be cool tho)

Ruby was sitting in the cafeteria with Oscar and penny she was too tired to pay attention to what the two were talking about penny sitting across from her and Oscar was excitedly talking about something while Oscar liens looking interested she’s unsure how he’s so put together they were both up late hanging out dreading comics and it’s only 7 am she leaned on Oscar and closed her eyes hoping to get a little more sleep before She had to do missions she had a relatively short one today only a search and destroy so maybe she could get home fast and take a nap Oscar nudged her shoulder and she lifted her head “hey don’t fall asleep if you don’t eat you’ll be grumpy” he says she fakes a pout and starts eating the gross cafeteria food she assumed that atlas food would be good sense it’s so many rich folks but no she’s actually had  better tasting mres or maybe she was just getting spoiled eating Oscar and rens cooking “ruby why are you so tired did you have trouble sleeping” penny says drawing circles on the table with her finger “no me and Oscar were up late last night and I only slept like three hours“ penny frowns “while I am happy you and Oscar are spending time together you require at least 6 hours of sleep for maximum field efficiency” ruby just nods “so why don’t you seem tired Oscar you couldn’t of slept anymore than I did” she says with a yawn he shrugs and says  “I guess I’m used to it I had to wake up early back home so I always didn’t get a bunch of sleep” penny raises a finger “actually according to my scans  Oscars brain is only running at 89% efficiency and his hear rate is faster from his normal 48 beats per minute to to 51 it is likely that he simply better at hiding his tiredness” Oscar slumps “penny do have everyone’s heart rates memorized” he says exasperated “yes I also have all of your medical charts on file and criminal records why” he raises a brow “criminal record?” Penny nods “yes several of your team have criminal records qrow having the longest with 22 counts of public intoxication as well as 3 of public indecency and” ruby raises her hands “trust me you don’t wanna know the rest they had to make a new law for one of the things he did but who else has charges?” she tries to wake herself with conversation and it sorta works she also learns some new and unsettling things about her friends but eventually breakfast ends and she starts to get her gear ready she’s loading rounds into one of crescent roses magazine when someone knocks on the door to her locker room “it’s open” she calls out and incomes  Oscar he’s holding a small Tupperware box and a small metal tumbler “hey I wanted to give this to you before you go” he says with a sheepish grin he sets the box next to her and hands her the tumbler it’s warm and smells good “it’s coffee, don’t worry I added way too much sugar for you and the other thing is a surprise you said you don’t eat a lot on missions so I made it for you it’s a bit of an experiment so tell me if it’s bad” she’s grinning ear to ear and stands up from her weapon bench and hugs him “you are the best and I’m sure it’ll be great” she gives him a kiss on the cheek she’s been slowly trying to work her way up to kissing him on the lips but nose and cheek kisses were enough for her he smiles and his cheeks get all rosey  and he hugs her back and says “be careful ok sorry I know you can take care of yourself but just you know“ she squeezes him a little “yeah don’t worry I know  I’ll be careful and when I get back we are so taking a nap mister I’m not that tired” he giggles and looks up at her with a smile  “you won’t hear me complain and uh before you go could I uh kiss you like um on the lips” he says nervously she leans down pressing her forehead to his and smiles she smells his breath it smells like chocolate and coffee she feels her cheeks heat up to match his and says “I’ve been wanting to do that for a while now are you sure you want to ” he nods his head wordlessly she takes his hand and gently presses her lips to his its short and maybe a little clumsy but it makes her heart soar when she breaks the kiss Oscars breath shakes slightly  and a little panic starts to fill her did she mess it up did he hate it and then he smiles and it all fades away “that was really nice” he says rubbing her knuckle with his thumb then there’s a knock on the door frame she looks up and weiss and Blake are standing there weiss looks annoyed and Blake is grinning “time to go ruby morning Oscar” wiess says already turning to walk away ruby quickly gathers crescent rose and Oscars gifts and says “bye Oscar I’ll be careful byeee” and dashed out the door behind the others Blake nudges her shoulder “your lucky I made weiss wait  ,god you two are adorable” ruby squeaks “will you stop spying on us”  “we weren’t spying you two dolts left the door open” weiss says annoyed 

 The mission was boring as she thought it was gonna be how normal soldiers couldn’t handle this she’ll never know on the airship ride home she opens   the box Oscar gave to her a note on top says “have a great day and stay safe” she smiles at the note and sticks it in her ammo pocket  it looks like a brownie is some kind and yang leans over and says “where did you get that”

“Oscar made it for me” she says taking it out of the container it smells like a peanut butter protein bar “ooo come on share with me pleassss” yang says putting her hands together “ugh your lucky I’m a good sister” she breaks off a small piece and hands it to yang and takes a bite of her own and it’s amazing it Taste like a peanut butter brownie but somehow better it’s somehow not dried out or crumbly yang seems to have a similar opinion “god if you don’t marry Oscar i will his food is too good”yang says with a laugh  she kicks yang in the leg “I know right I can barely eat the cafeteria food anymore” her and yang chat a bit about food until they finally land Oscar is standing on the landing pad waiting for her she bounce on her heels excitedly despite how tired she is when the door finally opens she rushes out to hug him “how did it go” he asks wrapping his arms around her shoulders “oh it was easy but soooo boring I don’t know why they asked us to do it” she says leaning into him he chuckles “well I’m glad it wasn’t dangerous at least did you like it” he asks sheepishly she puts her head on his “yeees brothers it was great what was it” he unwraps his arms and looks at her “there’s no name for it yet but it’s kinda like a protein brownie was it too grainy or anything what about the after taste” he asks “I didn't even realize it was supposed to be healthy” she puts her hands on his shoulders “Oscar I’m gonna need more of that” he smiles “happy to make some more tonight” he says proudly yang walks past and ruffles his hair “make sure to make enough for me too kiddo” and walks off “how about that nap ruby my teams still on mission so we should have some time” he says taking her hand “yes please” 

They walk back to team alpns dorm room after ruby changes into something more casual Oscar was already wearing his normal clothing he sits on his bed and smiles “I’m gonna get to have two naps today” she sits down next to him and throws her arm around him "you and your team  sure like your naps huh" he smiles as they lie back on his bed "honestly who doesn't like naps I never use to be a huge cuddler but it’s nice to have someone close to you, you know” they lie back Oscar resting his head on rubies shoulder “well I do  wish my team took naps together sometimes yang is a big cuddler too but Weiss  doesn’t like being warm and Blake can’t sit still even so less than you” he snorts as he takes her hand running his thumbs along her knuckles  “well I’m sure the others wouldn’t mind you joining our naps if have to ask but i'll warn you ren sits up in his sleep  Jaune snores and i talk in my sleep” she raises an eyebrow “you didn't last time” she says “that's cause we were smoking  but if i take a nap or if im really tired you can actually talk and I'll talk back” she grins “well what do you talk about”  he rests his head on her chest “usually about my aunt or all yall but Nora has told me i say lots of stuff about you if i'm asked” he says his cheeks getting just a tiny bit rosy she grins and plants a kiss on his nose “well i hope i get the chance to ask but i'll probably fall asleep first im super tired” she rolls over and wraps herself around him oscar adjusting to lay on her arm pulling a blanket over them "well if you can get me to talk I'll answer any question just nothing to embarrassing please" he says  “i would like to know what you have to say tho so maybe i'll try to hold out just a bit longer” she says closing her eyes as oscar lets out his relaxed sigh about half of Oscars communication was nonverbal she liked to mentally catalog the things he does when he relaxes he lets out a long almost high pitched sigh it makes her happy to hear that and it helps her relax her thoughts starts to get fuzzy as sleep takes her she wakes up a few hours later laying on her back oscar laying on top of her them both having wrapped around each other she hears quiet murmurs  coming from him to quiet to understand "Oscar are you still asleep" she whispers no response "Oscar are you comfy" he nods his head "of course I'm comfy I'm cuddling with ruby" she snickers he was definitely still asleep "who's the coolest person you know" she she's "ruby for sure she's so good at fighting and everyone trusts her I wish I was more like her" she runs her hand through his hair "how do you feel about ruby " she asked "I'm in love with her she makes me feel strong and weak at the same time when she's with me I feel like I'm safe and that we could do anything together i want to be with her forever" she's crying now "oh shit I didn't expect him to be that honest" she thinks as tears run down her face "I love you too Oscar"     she kisses the top of his head “you know i never used to want like romantic stuff and all the fluffy garbage i just wanted to be a huntress and fight grim stuff like that but you  make me want that stuff i wanna take you on dates and like hold your hand and stuff there are a bunch of things i wanna do like” she pauses resting her head on his “i forgot you were asleep for a second i'm starting to embarrass myself i do love you tho i dont know when your supposed to say that we've only been i guess dating for what 2 and a half weeks my dad always joked that huntsmen relationships move really fast nothing like holy shit we might die to move a relationship forward right but you make me feel like i don't know amazing and I love being with you you make all my worries disappear even if it's only for a little bit and i'm rambling and your not talking back” oscar lifts his head “its cause im awake and i love it when you ramble” she feels her face light on fire “w-what when did you wake up” he hums happily “around we might die  i think it was nice that stuff you said you can ramble longer if you want what that new gun you saw in that magazine” she smiles “it's a roller delayed blowback sniper rifle its a smaller caliber than crescent rose but it has a longer effective range because of the way the bore is shaped i prefer bolt actions to semi automatics for a long range rifle semi autos have there merits and stuff it's a lot lighter than crescent rose as well on account of it not also being a giant scythe you know i was thinking about carrying a pistol too crescent rose is great but shes heavy and she's also really hard to conceal  even when shes folded speaking of i need to clean her gears a bunch of dust got in them today you said you wanted to learn weapon maintenance i could teach you today if you want” “sure i can learn there's a lot of things oz knows but it's like a big library without a librarian its all jumbled up” she scratches the back of his neck “well i do not understand the dewey decimal system but i'm happy to help” they both giggle at her joke ruby keeps rambling until the rest of team alpn return 

Oscar is walking ruby back to her dorm they come to her door and they turn to face each other and oscar rubs his hands together “so ruby uh I got permission with ironwood to leave school grounds as long as someone's with me so I was wondering if you’d like to maybe go out like on a date” she smiles and puts her arms around his shoulders “sounds amazing sweetie I’m free this weekend where do you want to go” he blushes and says “well I actually have something in mind but I wanna keep it a surprise if that’s ok” she kisses him on the cheek “of course casual clothes or should i dress nice” he shakes his head “i mean it's really up to you but were not going somewhere fancy just a place I think you'll like" she smiles and kisses his nose and he leans up a little so there lips are level "can i kiss you again" he asks just above a whisper her pressing her lips gently against his is her answer they  hold the kiss for a few moments Oscars hands drifting to ruby's waist when they separate  she says "i think we're getting pretty good at that" Oscar smiles avoiding her eyes "yeah um It's certainly enjoyable" they break the hug "I'll see you in the morning I'll make that stuff you like ok" he says "yes awesome you're the best Oscar good night" she says as she slips into her from her teammates giving her knowing smirks 

[my-writings-and-musings]

I came up with lil idea, not intented to be a request but up to you what you do with this

So, human is getting miserable, sluggish and tired. Bots ask human why, they're not sure, Rung doesn't give an answer because patient confidelity. Whirl asks if he can kill someone. Magnus says maybe. But Swerve, the lil dude, comes up with an answer. He figures it's because of the metallic nature of the ship and the human just misses nature. So they gather a group of the humans friends to help with a project, and Swerve and Ten are the "bosses". Swerve shows them what Earths nature looks like, and multiple bots lend their talents to transform two unused habsuits into thing gigantic, realistic looking forest. Some bots bend metals to create trees and Ten paints them. Percy comes up with a way to create a small weather system that creates mist and rain and stuff like that. Multiple bots make tiny, or as tiny as they can make them, animal sculptures, and again Ten paints them. Brainstorm makes the ceiling look real. It works on human time and basically there's sunset and sunrise, along with a starry sky of the milkyway. Rewind collects animal and nature sounds from the nature documents Swerve has, and now theres a stereo in the rooms that quietly play said noises. Theres just an incredible amount of detail that goes into these rooms, with a vent/tunnel that connects them. In the end it's just an exact replica of a forest you'd see on Earth. Hours upon hours were poured into these rooms, multiple bots spent a good amount of their free time in the making of these rooms for the sake of their human friend. And it pays off. The human cries from happiness. They start to become themselve again and frequently spent their free time in the room.

That's it that's the idea

That idea is BEAUTIFUL.

Rung wants to offer assistance, but therapy isn't quite enough, and he's only one bot. Whirl assumes someone must be bothering his favorite squishy, and even if that's not the case, he believes that knowing you have a buddy who'd kill for you is always helpful. It makes him feel better, anyway... Magnus considers allowing some extreme measures as it becomes clear their beloved human is indeed suffering. They're tired, glum, reclusive, and just not themselves! It doesn't take a medic to figure out this can't be good for them.

Swerve, being a sharp bot with an excellent understanding of earth, is indeed the one who puts all the pieces together. The ship wasn't built with human biology in mind, and that's having some severe consequences, both for their physical and mental wellbeing. Some rapid fire research helps him craft a genius solution, but he knows he'll need help, so he gathers a massive team in the bar. Saying it's for the human gets the entire crowd to show without delay.

Before a packed bar, Swerve lays out the situation. Humans need their environment to be a certain way, he explains, and the ship just isn't meeting those needs. Undoubtedly this is what's causing the human to feel so unwell. When some bots aren't quite convinced he has Ten hold him up so he can speak with authority, and the medics concur it's a reasonable theory, though Swerve still requests Ten hold him up because he likes to be tall. Also because it makes proposing his solution much easier when everyone can see him.

An impressive plan is detailed by charts, PowerPoint presentations, drawings, schematics along with Swerve and Ten detailing the specifics as they go. The plan is simple but impressive; make some small part of the ship feel like home. Two unused habsuites would be ideal, and while they've planned it all out, they're going to need help. In fact, they're going to need as many helpers as possible. Rodimus doesn't hesitate to put his full support behind the plan, and encourages everyone to offer what skills they can. Ultra Magnus immediately sets about recruiting and assigning tasks with the admittedly solid plan Swerve has laid out. Every bot wants to contribute something. There's over two hundred volunteers, and soon they're all working together, keeping it a secret from the human so they'll be surprised. Drift finances the massive load of supplies that they need to get started.

As sneakily as they can, the bots work in shifts to follow the blueprints, with Swerve acting as the expert on all things Earth and Ten backing him up. The initial construction is the easy part; it's everything after that's difficult. When "renting" earth animals proves too difficult and Magnus forbids cloning more, they decide that art will do the trick, and thankfully they have lots of material to work with and ample artists to make it work. Metal is bent and soldered into the shape of earth's flora and fauna, with the artistically gifted Ten bringing it to life through his excellent painting skills.

On the scientific front, the laboratory goes a little wild creating ways to capture the "essence" of life on Earth, with Perceptor inventing a simple but elegant device to mimic the planet's atmospheric phenomena. Mist, rain, humidity, aridity, even the scent of ozone... It's all in there, and it even has a handy remote! Quite proudly, he points out that the entire room will even recycle it's own water supply, just like earth does. Not to be outdone (and to show off) Brainstorm sets about reformatting the entire ceiling. For him, it's not enough that the room can mimic the climate of the planet, it needs to look like it too. Though tempted to go all out with extreme weather modes, he settles for a ceiling that produces a realistic sky just like the one on Earth. It can be sunny, cloudy, starry, and even follow a set schedule!

But of course, as a very smart minicon points out, Earth is not a silent planet! Rewind puts his talent to use gathering the sounds of animals and plants and weather patterns, all of which he mixes into a sound program of unfathomable complexity to give the room a thriving ambience. Whether it's birdsong or a gentle rain, the human will long for the sound of their home no longer. Or at least he hopes as much.

In total there's no way to know how many hours were poured into the project, but the result is well worth it. There's a grand gathering when the human is brought to see the finished effort, and for a moment, no bot dares blink at the suspense. Everyone can only hope it works...

It does, to a degree they never could have anticipated. Their long suffering friend breaks out into happy tears, in part because of the planet they so long for, but mostly due to the incredible effort that's been put in on their behalf. Everyone worked on this in some capacity, there's not a single member of the ship that didn't contribute, and it was all for their beloved human. More than a few bots cry as well. So much hugging happens that they lose track of it all. The human camps out in the room that night with a lot of bots for company, and they actually have to keep track of who does so to ensure everyone who wants to gets a turn. Some find they like hanging out in the room so much the list of bots who want to see Earth magnifies exponentially. They all promise to the human they'll go together someday. But, for now, everyone is content to relax in their little slice of the humans home.

[delimeful]

WIBAR Intermission: Night Terrors

welcome to the third intermission piece; also a commission for @walkingonsunshine for more WIBAR content! sorry for the delay, and i hope you enjoy! <3 

if you’re new to this AU, you can find the first story on tumblr here and the ao3 collection here!

warnings: panic, fear, nightmares, depiction of night terrors, hurt/kind of comfort, tsundere princey

---

Roman carefully adjusted their flight course, half his attention devoted to keeping an eye on the Human currently hovering around one of his two closest friends. 

How strange his life had become, for that sentence to only be mildly terrifying. He glanced at the charted course on the ship’s displays one more time, and then made his way over to the others. 

Predictably, the Human’s gaze flitted to him immediately, and though his shoulders went taut, he continued speaking in low Common. 

“Are you sure this is safe? What if you need to get off-planet quickly, won’t we be too far? The smugglers could have people there, what if they recognize Patton--,” 

“Virgil,” Logan cut in, still carefully slotting items into his traveling pack as he made direct eye contact with the Human. “We’ve taken this all into account, and we have several contingency plans. If I thought that either of us were in danger, this trip wouldn’t be happening.”   

“I know you don’t think the chances are high, but…” The Human shifted his weight, working his freaky jaw as though chewing on his words. “Is it worth the risk, though?”

“In order to keep our ship running efficiently and avoid budget…,” Logan paused, and then revised his statement, accommodating the Human’s inability to comprehend nerd speak. “We need currency and information, and this is the best way. It will also keep us from looking suspicious and risk being boarded.” 

The Human averted his eyes, shamed by the reminder that he was the reason they were striving to remain so secretive. Roman huffed derisively. Before, they hadn’t ever picked up anything illegal or unsavory while running missions. Now, they had an entire stowaway on board that could get them in serious trouble.

“What about Roman?” the Human asked, a curious note entering his voice. “I… I know that I can’t go, but he’d be able to keep you safe, right?” 

Roman bristled slightly, thrown off guard by being suddenly dragged into the argument. Complimenting him, what sort of ploy was this? “Of course I could keep them safe!” 

“However,” Logan shot him a look, completely unfairly since the Human had started it, “Patton and I are the most effective team for trading, and I am a distinctly and severely poisonous species, which means most will be wary to engage. Besides, Roman usually remains onboard to keep the ship functioning properly. Deviating from the norm here could draw unwanted attention, and even open ourselves to the risk of being robbed.” 

The Human seemed ready to continue the discussion, but his mouth clicked shut as Patton skittered into the room at full speed, his own small traveling pack strapped to his waist. “I’m ready to go!” 

Roman raised a skeptical eye ridge at the bulky shape of the bag as the Ampen passed him. “How many cookies are in there?” 

“Just enough to make it through the trip!” Patton chirped back, completely unashamed. The Human’s lips twitched, and Roman reminded himself again that Patton would be upset if he interpreted it as the barely concealed threat display that it clearly was.  

Logan cleared his throat. 

“Can we consider the matter settled, then?” he asked, because he wasn’t above taking advantage of Patton’s puffball-ness to win an argument. It was infuriating when used against Roman himself, but he was more than happy to let the Human face Logan’s underhanded tactics. Virgil’s face pinched up in a strange expression, and then he sighed heavily, slouching more than normal. 

“Aw, still feeling stressed about the trip?” Patton asked, hopping closer to the Human and reaching up to the tip of his talons to pat his hand. 

Obligingly, the Human dropped into a stalker crouch, sickeningly quick. Patton headbutted the underside of the Human’s chin gently, completely unfazed by the threatening body language. Roman did his best to pretend he hadn’t just twitched menacingly in their direction. 

“Don’t worry, Vee, we’re going to be just fine! I’m a little nervous too, but I know everything is going to turn out okay.” They exchanged one of those clingy Human-style embraces, and then Patton finally stepped back, antennae lowered slightly at the parting. “And you’ll be okay, too! You’ve got Roman onboard to help if anything happens!” 

Roman didn’t miss the wary glance the Human threw his way, and he furrowed his brow (one of the few expressions that seemed to convey his general displeasure to the Human fairly well) before turning away pointedly. 

“... Right,” the deathworlder said, sounding more apprehensive than he had any right to be. 

After all, Roman suspected that Virgil hadn’t gotten the lecture/scolding on ‘playing nice while they were gone’ that he had. 

As if Roman was the one to worry about here! Unbelievable.  

---

The first half-cycle that Patton and Logan spent away passed without incident, mostly because the Human didn’t bother to emerge from the guest room and irritate Roman with his presence. 

Roman still struggled to get to sleep, since he couldn’t bring himself to remove his under armor plates while alone in a ship with a Human. Without Patton on board, there was no guarantee that the Human would remain ambivalent towards Roman. 

Humans didn’t take well to anything resembling a threat, after all. 

With that unnerving thought in mind, he should have expected that his dreams would be plagued with flashbulb memories of familiar, long-gone faces, ominous sounds drawing closer in pitch darkness, and claustrophobic tightness pressing in on him. 

He jerked upright, his mind still struggling in the dregs of the nightmare, and froze at a thick tearing sound. 

… That would be the pillows. He sighed as the soft fluff filling spilled out of the holes his scales had pierced. It wasn’t like he couldn’t get them replaced, but Patton often managed the shopping roster, and he’d definitely notice and realize that the nightmares were coming back. 

Roman smoothed his arm scales down absently, shaking his head and climbing out of bed. The lights were still dim, meaning he could barely see three feet past his face, but he had navigated in worse, and he’d also been living on this ship more than long enough to familiarize himself with its layout. It would be simple enough to go get a drink of water, clear his head a bit.

He tried not to focus on the fact that he was traversing the same darkened halls that a Human could be wandering. Or stalking. He shuddered, and regretted it as his scales clacked loudly. 

As though summoned by his thoughts, there was a faraway faint sound. Roman went still, ears panning carefully-- there it was again. There was only one other being onboard that could be the source of the noise, but what was the Human even doing at such an hour? 

With only a little hesitation, he made a detour, following the turns and curves until he reached the guest door that he knew housed their illegal stowaway. 

Luckily, the Human always left the door partially open, so it was easy for him to peer in and spot the vague outline of him, curled in a pile of bedding on the floor. It was even easier to see the way the Human tossed and turned, murmuring, clearly caught in the throes of his own nightmare.

Roman softened slightly despite himself as he caught a low whimper. It wasn’t any of his business but… maybe he should go comm Patton. The Ampen would know what to do.

Before he could decide, there was a sharp inhale, and the Human spasmed as though electrocuted, sitting bolt upright and breathing heavily. His entire body seemed to be trembling. 

Roman shifted, awkward at being caught lurking, but the movement made Virgil’s head snap sharply towards him. Something about his eyes, wide and blank, immediately set Roman on edge, and he resisted the urge to growl defensively. 

“What?” he demanded instead. “I simply heard you making noise-- hey!” 

A beat after he’d begun to speak, Virgil jerked away, scrambling to his feet and throwing himself not at Roman, but over the bed, as though trying to put distance between the two of them. He slammed face first into the wall with a painful-sounding thud, but didn’t seem hindered by the injury, turning and wedging himself into the corner of the room.  

Roman took an indignant step forward. Virgil screamed, guttural and terrified, as though someone was murdering him. Roman took several rapid steps backwards, but the Human continued to scream for no reason he could see. He abruptly began to worry about how Patton would react if he got back and found that the Human had spontaneously broken in his absence.

“Woah, calm down! I’m not doing anything to you, I’m just standing here,” he tried, backing up slightly. 

It was like he hadn’t even spoken. Virgil continued to stare right through him, eyes glazed with fear, skin slick with sweat, breathing quick and high-pitched like he was on the edge of sobs. Starting to panic himself, Roman sat down, eased his body language, even talked soothingly, but nothing he did seemed to help shake the Human out of his stupor.

“Please. Please!” 

Roman’s head jerked up as Virgil finally spoke in Common, his voice raspy and thin. “What?” 

“No more, I don’t want to-- please, just take it, leave me alone, please,” the babbling dissolved into Virgil’s native language again, and Roman wondered what kind of dream could possibly reduce a Human to this state. ...What had been taken from him? 

“Please…,” Virgil mumbled again, and then hummed a few shaky notes. Familiar notes.

When the Human’s hoarse voice trailed off, Roman picked up the rhythm. He carefully hummed the Ampen lullaby to completion, struggling not to tense up when Virgil finally reacted, his head swinging to the side as though searching for the source. His gaze eventually settled on Roman, promptly dropping down to his chest. It took him a moment to realize the Human wasn’t eyeing his vulnerable underbelly for attack, but rather, spotting the glowing charm that hung there. 

“Patton?” 

“A friend of Patton,” Roman replied in the musical tones of his crewmate’s language, feeling hopeful as the humans shoulders lowered slightly. Virgil nodded to himself, hand reaching for his own charm. 

“Please don’t hurt me,” he asked mildly, and then collapsed. 

Roman made an alarmed yip that he would absolutely never admit to, and then bolted for the nearest biometrics scanner, thanking his stars that Logan had managed to get the twitchy creature to sit still and register a baseline for them to compare to if he ever got sick or injured. He double checked that the device was offline before logging the Human’s vitals and quickly comparing them to baseline.

Other than a slightly accelerated pulse and an increase in the already ludicrous amount of Dren in his system, it all looked fairly normal. For all intents and purposes, Virgil had simply... fallen back into sleep, just like that. 

“What the fuck,” Roman muttered to himself, watching the Human breathe steadily for a moment more before backing out of the room and heading back to his own quarters, water forgotten. Whatever was wrong with Virgil, he could ask (or interrogate) in the morning. 

For now, he needed a damn nap.

---

The next morning, the Human seemed to have no recollection of the incident. 

After a frustrating amount of time wasted with subtle and then less-subtle prodding questions, Roman threw his arms up and stormed from the room, returning a moment later with the communicator. 

“Call Patton,” he instructed as he firmly shoved the device into Virgil’s hands, ignoring his perplexed expression. He paused for a moment, and then added on, “And give me the comm once you’re done.” 

Not because Roman was worried about the situation or anything. It was just that if he had to put up with terrifying and vexing Human shenanigans, then the other two were going to get an earful about it. 

And... if they decided to talk to Virgil about it and figure out what was wrong, that was their business, not his. He wasn’t involved.

---

Virgil squinted curiously at Roman’s retreating back as the Crav’on vanished into the other room. 

The comm in his hand buzzed twice, indicating that the connection had been established, and he felt some of the stress ease from him as Logan’s calm voice trickled through the alien phone, Patton audible in the distance. They were okay. 

He was okay too, despite all his doubts about being alone on an alien ship with an alien who didn’t hide his distaste for Humans at all. Roman had even seemed oddly concerned at breakfast. 

Maybe the guy didn’t completely hate him, after all.  

[dakt37]

Avengers Assemble - Feral Outlaw Stony

So I've been expanding on this concept I doodled before Christmas, where Steve goes with Tony into the no-tech dimension at the end of season 3. Probably a lot of stuff isn't canon-compliant (beyond the obvious change that is), but "It's an AU so I do what I want" rules apply. Anyway. 

The tl;dr is: The two of them spend a little time puttering around the weird no-tech dimension, and then get absorbed into Battleworld. They become explorers, helping people out and falling in love along the way.

(Once again, I feel like someone must have had this idea already, but I’ve never looked.)

Cut for excessive rambling.

~~~

Not all the areas we see in the show are present in Battleworld when Steve and Tony first arrive, so the boys spend most of their time traveling around, mapping the place out as it expands. A lot of my ideas rely on them still having little-to-no access to modern conveniences. Obviously someplace modern has to show up for them to get their hands on a pickup truck and a motorcycle, but I’m picturing a post-apocalyptic junkyard that’s been picked clean of anything obviously useful. They get the vehicles working by sheer force of “I’m Tony-fucking-Stark.” But like that fully functional NYC area is way too convenient, so it’s not around yet. (tbh I’m not even sure if it’s an alternate NYC or theirs, in which case it wouldn’t show up until the other Avengers do anyway) 

They get the low-down on the "Battleworld" concept by eavesdropping on one of Beyonder's* welcome speeches. They realize that they are uniquely off the grid, because Beyonder didn't know they were in the no-tech dimension when he added it to Battleworld. They decide it's advantageous to maintain this secret status, but they're still Avengers™️ so they can't NOT help out wherever they can. But they don’t stick around any one place for long. Basically, they become vagrant vigilantes in addition to surveyors. They get a lot of their “stuff” (clothes, tools, toiletries, etc) as payment for odd jobs, or gifts from grateful locals they rescue. They get some food from populated areas as well, but also rely on foraging and hunting while on the lam. They have definitely eaten dinosaur at some point.

(*He doesn't get the nickname "Beyonder" until the other Avengers show up. In this AU Steve and Tony refer to him as "The Entity" or "Suspenders." You can probably guess who tends to use which.)

On top of the survival story, it's also a getting-together story. Steve and Tony flirt and pine and bicker and flirt some more, until a squabble turns into a confession and they finally start kissing. There’s plenty of time for “it’s cold in this wasteland and we only have one blanket, oh no,” but they’re firmly established as romantically involved by the time the other Avengers show up and they have the final showdown with Beyonder.

Anyway a lot of the AU notes I've been making are about the functional side of their Big Camping Adventure. So here's a bunch of lists about vehicles, gadgets, and navigation.

~

Vehicle stuff:

If Tony is riding passenger on the motorcycle, he can clip his repulsor boots into special footrests that reroute the energy and give the bike a speed boost. 

The bike has a tow cable. Steve can harpoon things using a spring-action firing mechanism, including cliff faces to help him scale steep terrain. The cable can also be uncoiled manually, like when Tony takes flight while holding the end so he and Steve can clothesline hostiles. 

Steve can stick his shield several places on the bike depending on what’s convenient. On the front as a windscreen/battering ram, on one side for easy grabbing, and even on Tony’s backpack so Tony can snuggle in properly while riding passenger and keep both their backs protected.

They probably don’t even need a ramp to get the bike into the bed of the pickup. Steve just picks it up and puts it there.

The evolution of Marsha (the truck) into a full Hulkbuster-style mech takes a long time. For the majority of their time in Battleworld, it’s just a truck with an ever-increasing number of weird add-ons.

Marsha can function as a tiny camper home. The cargo bed liner is a false bottom, which can be pulled up and rearranged to form a cover/roof. Underneath the liner, the actual truck bed is about a foot deeper, with most of that storage space taken up by a mattress and bedding. 

Tony can pull a cable out of Marsha’s steering column and plug it directly into his arc reactor. This unlocks extra features and weapons. He generally has things balanced so that Marsha drawing power doesn't affect him any more than his armor drawing power would. But on rare and desperate occasions, he can overclock and hurt himself. Steve of course hates when he does this.

Turnabout is fair play though: at least once, something else damaged the arc reactor, so Tony plugged into Marsha to draw power from the battery for his electromagnet while he repaired the arc.

Gasoline can be difficult to procure, so both vehicles are hybrids. Tony just keeps adding new power conversion elements as they go along, based on what they can find. 

~

F in chat for Tony’s armor:

Tony dismantles the armor he’d been wearing when they first went into the no-tech dimension.

Obviously he keeps skeletal versions of the repulsor boots and gloves in-tact enough to function. 

He also keeps most of the helmet, for when he’s riding with Steve on the motorcycle. Mostly because Steve insisted. It's gutted of tech though, so if the faceplate stays as part of the design, the eyes are just holes (like in the classic comics).

The rest of the pieces are kept in a large packing trunk.

Tony repurposes some parts into useful gadgets for himself and Cap, plus the odd toy for other Avengers (like Widow’s new stinger gauntlets) because he’s optimistic like that.

Electronics use precious metals like gold and copper, so Tony scrapes some out to pay for things in certain areas of Battleworld, like the cowboy town or the pirate area. He might also barter with other general bits like wires and screws, but he avoids parting with any actual full tech.

~

Plug-n-play Gadgets

Since the power draw for Tony's electromagnet is actually fairly minimal, Tony makes use of the arc reactor as a charging station, mostly when he sleeps. It's not like there's a corner store they can drop by to get a pack of batteries. Things he charges include (but are not limited to):

Flashlight for Steve. The bulbs for it came from the eyes in the Iron Man helmet. Note: Tony doesn't need a flashlight himself because he can turn up his arc brightness apparently, lmao.

Camp stove. Steve questioned Tony building one for a hot second because hello we can build campfires to cook over? But then it’s raining and they're in a cave and Tony is like, "if you fill this space with smoke I will divorce you before we're even married." And Steve is like "camp stove wow yes okay." Also they had camp stoves in WW2 so honestly it was simply a Himbo Moment to disregard the virtues of one in the first place. 

Walkie talkies. I know they had Avengers comms but I like the aesthetic of walkie talkies more. Maybe the comms relied on satellites that they obviously don't have anymore or something.

~

Navigation:

Speaking of a lack of satellites, the GPS in Tony’s armor is rendered useless. Steve is real smug about it and pulls out his old-fashioned compass. But Battleworld also doesn’t have proper poles, so it just spins wildly for a few seconds and then points at Tony’s electromagnet. Not to be deterred, Steve declares, “Well, you’re never lost if you can find Polaris.” They look up and realize that the night sky, despite having stars and a moon, is not at all arranged the way it is on Earth. 

Tony takes this as a Challenge. He builds a sextant, then spends the next several nights in a row muttering math under his breath as he painstakingly creates a hand-drawn star chart. This, combined with landmarks, becomes the primary way they orient themselves as they roam around Battleworld.

Many nights, Steve and Tony lie in the bed of the pickup together and make up constellations named after other Avengers and friends. Steve makes a copy of Tony’s star chart and sketches artistic renditions of the constellations on top. To close this post with an interesting visual, here’s an example of what Tony’s star map might look like vs what Steve’s would more resemble:

[supernaturallyobsessedchic]

Emergency! Part 3

Summary: A woman comes back from her trip from Asia but isn’t feeling the best. And is rushed to the hospital. Her symptoms are that of the flue, but worse than. The virus spreads throughout the hospital, Jack falls ill collapsing in the break room. Dean falls ill on a rescue, Cas having to rescue the original victim and his partner. The reader, having to sit by and wait and pray for her friends pull through. But turns out the original patient with the virus got better, now her body has the antibodies to fight the virus.

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean x Nurse!Reader

Word Count: 4,262

Warnings: Scary Situations, Language, Mild Angst, Fluff.

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Mobile Masterlist

a/n: I could use the corona virus or COVID-19 but decided to use the virus used in the Emergency! Episode of the same name. The virus being a strain of the Asian flu during a bad outbreak in the late 60’s. Also the drugs and measure mentioned are probably not accurate, I’m not a pharmacist.

a/n2: D.O.N = Director of Nursing, DOA = Dead on Arrival, BP = Blood Pressure, O2 Sat = Oxygen Saturation

~

“Dean,” Cas says, walking into the fire stations garage.

Dean was logging supplies in the squad truck when he heard Cas enter and got his attention.

“What’s up Cas?”

“When you started dating Y/N, when did you know she was the one?”

“What do you mean?”

“I really like Meg, and when she was taking care of me after that accident of mine I found that she and I have a lot in common and I want to know her more?”

“Well, Cas, it’s different for other people. Just ask Meg out. Talk to her, find out stuff about her that she likes, hates, and if you can find yourself still able to love her despite her flaws. Keep it going. Keep taking her out.”

“You make it sound so simple.”

“Nothing in life is simple man.”

Cas nods in agreement.

The alarm sounded in the station.

“Squad 51, someone sick. Respond. 226 south Jasper’s Avenue, cross street South Walker boulevard.”

“Back at it again.” Cas says.

“Let’s hit it.”

Dean getting into his usual spot in the squad, revving the engine to life and heading to the location.

When they arrived, another station had arrived originally.

Dean and Cas gathered their tools and headed into the residence.

“Chuck, what do you got?” Cas asked.

“Kelly McMeyers, 22, her dad said she was fine at breakfast.”

They followed Fireman Chuck through the house to the girl’s bedroom to find her on her bed, sweating, pale and in obvious discomfort and pain.

Dean placed a hand on her head.

“She’s burning up, Cas, get the thermometer.”

Cas did as told handing the thermometer to Dean.

Dean placed in the girls mouth, under her tongue. Cas handing him the blood pressure cuff.

Dean began checking her Blood pressure.

“Get the radio, we need to tell the hospital.” Dean orders.

Cas, pulls out the radio of it’s holster on his belt.

“Rampart, this is rescue 51. Rampart this is rescue five one.” Cas radios in.

 It was a normal slow day at the hospital, y/n having finished her charting, getting reading for her lunch break.

“Rampart this is rescue 51,” she heard Cas’s voice over the radio.  “Rampart this is rescue Five one.”

She picks up the hand piece to the hospital’s radio to respond.

“Go ahead 51.”

“Rampart we have a female, Kelly McMeyers, 22 years of age.” Cas transmits.

 “BP is 129 over 80, O2 Saturation is…”

Dean places a hand over her chest, watching it rise and fall. Counting in his head. But scolding with the low number he came up with.

“Did you pack the pulse Oximeter?”

“I did.” Cas says, handing it to him.

“I got to double check before I give you the wrong number.”

Dean turned on the device, and placing it on her finger.

“Still reading low, O2 Sat, 85.” Dean says.

“O2 sat is 85. Temperature is coming up…”

Dean pulls out the thermometer.”

“105.” He reads.

“Temperature is 105.”

 y/n was shocked she had a temperature that high.

“51, standby, a doctor will be with you shortly.”

“10-4.”

 “I just don’t understand, she was fine at breakfast, it happened so suddenly.” The girl’s father expressed.

“Some of these things do happen rather quickly.”

“Could be the Asian Flu?” Chuck suggests. Playing with the girl’s pet monkey.

“Well, let’s not jump to any conclusions until a doctor can see her.” Cas says.

“Kelly, sweetheart, can you hear me?” Dean asks.

The girl nods groggily.

“She’s really drowsy.” Cas mentions.

“Kelly, are you in any pain at all?” Dean asks.

“My head hurts, my chest hurts too.” She whines.

“She threw up a bit before you got here Winchester.” Chuck mentions.

 “51, this is doctor Singer.”

“Rampart, we have new information, patient is experiencing head and chest pain, she’s drowsy and vomited a few times before we arrived.”

“Alright, start IV, lidocaine, two milligrams. And just in case what she has is contagious keep contact with the patient to an absolute minimum.”

“10-4 Rampart.” Cas says.

“I’ll get the IV going, if you want to get the ambulance here Chuck.”

“Already ahead of you, they should be here by now.”

Sirens are heard in the distance, as if on cue.

“How about that timing?” Cas says.

“Alright, she’s set, lets get her to the hospital.” Dean says.

Just as more paramedics came in, Dean grabbed the equipment as Cas walked out with the patient.

Chuck still petting the monkey.

“I love monkeys, bet he’d be a cute pet to have.” He says.

“Yeah, but they’re not meant to be pets Chuck.”

“Yeah, I know. But, cute little guy, isn’t he?”

The monkey sat on his pole that stood in the room. And the monkey started walking over to Dean, walking on his shoulder, messing with his hat.

“Hey, stop,” he told the monkey while trying to shake him off gently.

The monkey got back on his pole as Dean walked out to the squad.

 At the hospital, Y/N, Doctor Singer assisted in the patient, Kelly McMeyer, as Doctor Singer preformed a spinal tap.

Just as he pulled out the needle, gathering spinal fluid, Doctor Kline walks in.

“What’d you got Bobby?”

“Possible strain of the flu, her symptoms are consistent with that of the Asian flu, but the incubation period is too fast. Her symptoms came up quick, she was fine at breakfast.”

“Do we know where she’s been lately?”

“All over southeast Asia, Kelly and her friends were part of her church’s mission trip in assisting kids in orphanages, and adoption homes. Fixing them up, helping kids get adopted. And her dad took her camping when she got back. Took her to the Black Hills in South Dakota.” y/n explained.

“That opens us up to a whole array of fevers, and of course flus. China is always riddled with noval viruses we’ve never seen nor dealt with. And of course, there’s ones we’ve dealt with her, rocky mountain spotted fever, lymes disease, or even parasitic infections. Fungal infections that could have originated from her camping trip.” Jack explained.

“Did Kelly have any kind of protection on either trip?” Jack asked.

“Her dad made sure she packed, bug spray, tick spray, and they had nets around their camp to prevent nats and other flying insects from getting in the tents.” Y/N says.

“So, in which case, we’re back to, what did she catch when she was in China. Because chances of her getting anything on the camping trip are slim I’m guessing.”

“Her dad was pretty adamant that they were covered for their trip. He didn’t want anyone getting sick.”

Jack nods.

“Let’s get some blood work, see if we can’t find the answer in there.”

“You got it doctor.” y/n says, getting her hands sanitized, and ready to draw some blood.

 “Dean, your shift was done an hour ago, go home!” His father ordered.

“Just finishing up the logs for the day.”

“Cas can finish it up for you, he at least goes home in an hour. Now go.”

“Yes sir, you sure you got this man?” Dean asks.

“Dean, I got it. Go home and rest. See you in two days.”

Dean handed Cas the papers for logging their day, what all happened, their end result. He grabbed the keys to his Impala and drove on home.

He could tell he was exhausted. At a stop light he had to really will himself to stay awake just a few more miles.

But as he got to another stop light, he knew he was too tired to be driving.

Y/N’s apartment wasn’t far. He moved lanes before her street came up and Dean drove to her apartment. Giving her a call to make sure she was either up or home.

“Hey Handsome, how was your day?” she asked.

He could hear the background of the hospital.

“Exhausting. Are you still at work?”

“Yeah, another late one. Why? Are you in the area?” she asked. Sounding concerned.

“I’m really exhausted, and I don’t think I’m gonna make it home. I was thinking on crashing at your place.”

“You can stay there Dean; my key is by my hanging plant. I think your clothes from last time are still there.”

“Thanks baby, where would I be without you?”

“Dead in a ditch because you’ve run yourself ragged, now hurry to my place and get to bed. I’ll home when I can.”

“Love you sweetheart.” He says with a tired smile, pulling into her apartment complex.

“Love you more Winchester, sleep well.” She says.

He parked his car near where she parked. Walking up tiredly up to her apartment he found her key easily.

He headed inside, placing the key back but also locking up behind him as he got himself settled.

She had since gotten a new apartment since the plane crash; sure she was farther away from the hospital, but she was closer to him by several blocks.

He had gotten out of the shower, feeling a little bit better, but he climbed into his side in her bed. Pulling the covers over him, and falling fast asleep once his head hit the pillow.

She had hurried with her charting, her replacement nurse coming in late. But at least she showed up.

She hurried to her car to get on home.

She saw Dean’s car parked next to her spot on the street. She parked her car right behind his.

She quietly entered the apartment. Leaving the lights off she navigated to her room seeing his sleeping form in her bed. Sound asleep.

She made her shower quick and simple, washing off the stress of the day and relaxing enough so she could fall easily asleep.

She climbs into bed beside him. He tossed, turning towards her, wrapping his arms around her.

Poor dude was exhausted. But Dean was no fool, he loved being the little spoon. Maybe too much. But when it was her, he didn’t care too much.

 Days followed, and the original patient began to go downhill. Her fever wasn’t breaking.

Y/N had finished getting Kelly’s vitals, updated her chart. She headed back out to the nurses station when she saw an ambulance dropping off a new patient.

“What do we have?” she asked.

“Fireman, Chuck Shirley. Stricken with a fever, 104 temp, slightly elevated BP.” One of the paramedics informed.

“He was fine at lunch time.” His wife said behind the paramedics.

“Are you his wife?” Y/N asked.

“I am, my name’s Becky.”

“Okay, I’ll escort you to the waiting room. I’ll keep you informed of your husbands situation.” y/n told her.

Becky nodded, and she was lead to the waiting room. Y/N walked back into one of the exam rooms.

Hours passed as the doctors looked over Chuck, they learned one thing in common.

He responded to Kelly McMeyers.

“I want everyone who responded to get checked out. Clearly we are up against something contagious.” Jack orders.

“I’ll get right on it.” y/n says.

 As the day wore on, Y/N had called all the stations that responded, the ambulance and even called up her boyfriend personally.

“Afternoon beautiful.” Dean answers.

“Hey babe, you responded on the Kelly McMeyers right?”

“I did, me and Cas both, why?”

“Chuck Shirley is sick with the same symptoms as Kelly, and Dr. Kline has ordered you two to come in and get checked out.”

“Is it really that bad?”

“Dean, Chuck looked bad. Come in, please.” She practically whined.

“Okay, I will. Don’t worry sweetheart. I have to come down for supplies anyway, I’ll bring Cas along.”

“Thank you. See you soon.”

Just as Dean and Cas left the hospital after giving their blood samples to be checked for any virus or uprising in white blood cell count. Questions rose to how and where the original patient got sick.

“Whatever this Kelly chick has must be bad.” Dean says as he drove back to the station.

“Must be, if she didn’t get while camping then where?” Cas asks.

For a beat there was a pause.

“The same place where she got her pet monkey.” Cas says.

“You really think that monkey is the carrier?” Dean asks, unsure.

“Think about it Dean. It’s always animals in other countries that carry all these scary viruses. Swine flu came from pigs. Avian flu came from birds. The Asian flu came from, well, Asia but it was ducks. What if, this monkey one of those viruses and was somehow able to transmit it overseas?” Cas explained.

“You should really be a doctor something, damn Cas.” Dean says, impressed with the information Cas was able to share.

“Also think of the movie Outbreak.”

“Dude, that wasn’t even a real virus.”

“No, but it was a real situation that can really happen. It’s the worst case scenario. But it was a monkey carrying a mutated version of the virus.”

“I think you’re onto something Cas.” Dean says, digging around in his pockets.

“Here, call my girlfriend, tell her what you told me.”

“Okay.” Cas says.

 “Hello?”

“Y/N, it’s Cas, you got a minute?”

“How’s Dean?” she asked concerned right away.

“Oh, he’s fine, we were just talking about the victims. She brought home a pet monkey from China. And Chuck was playing with it.”

“That is actually something Cas, thanks. Is there anything else we need to know?”

“Not really, but just for the fact that this monkey might carry a virus that could kill Kelly and our friend.”

“And you’re spot on, on that. I’ll tell Jack and Bobby. Thanks Cas.”

 At the hospital, the two doctors were at the nurses station when Cas called. Their attention on her when she seemed surprised with the information he given her.

“Cas of squad 51 just told me Kelly brought home a pet monkey from China. And that Chuck played with it.”

“That’s something, Bobby, get someone to go with Kelly’s dad back to his house. Get the monkey and bring the little guy in.”

“You got it Jack.”

 Cas had handed Dean his phone back.

“You know, Cas,” he says.

Cas doesn’t say anything but has his attention.

“I kind of played with the monkey too.”

 The next following day, Kelly was slowly getting better. But Chuck was taking a turn for the worse. His fever wasn’t breaking.

Jack goes into Kelly’s room to talk to her about her monkey.

A nurse was already in the room taking care of her.

“Abaddon why aren’t you wearing your mask?”

“Oh, sorry Doctor its just—”

“No excuses, you’re taking an unnecessary risk. Not only would you be putting your life at risk, you’re putting everyone else’s lives at risk as well.”

With that she put her mask over her mouth and nose.

“Kelly,” Jack says.

She opened her eyes slowly giving the doctor his attention.

“We got your pet down in the lab. Now, was he ever sick when you had him?”

“Yes, just after I bought him. He had a bad cold, and threw up a bit too.”

“Well in order to help the fireman, and you as well, we may have to put him down so we can perform an autopsy.”

“No, you can’t!” she cried. “I don’t know what I’d do without Oreo!”

“Kelly, it’s the only chance we have at saving lives.”

The tears that built up in the girls eyes fell. Jack took his gloved finger by her cheek, brushing away the tears that fell.

“If you’re right about that,” she swallows thickly. “Then you can take Oreo.”

“Could help you too Kelly.” Abaddon says.

“I know.”

Jack gave a sad smile through his mask.

He doffed off his PPE by the door and left her room to give the go ahead.

 “Dean, we have a group of kids from Jefferson Elementary School to come in for a tour, can you help Gabe clean up the garage real quick.”

“Dad, I’m really exhausted, can you get Cas to do it?”

“It’s not like you to complain, come on now. He’s busy with the logs, come on it won’t take long.”

The alarm sounded.

“Never mind.” John says.

“Station 51, medical emergency. At the top of the Wells Fargo bank at 5535 Woodland Boulevard. Cross street Jackson Avenue.”

The men and women at station 51 jumped into action.

 At the location they climbed up the stairs after they reached the max floor the elevator would allow to go.

“What happened?” John asked one of the men working on the roof.

“Jimmy was over the edge cleaning the windows and he let out a yell, and I saw him collapse. I tried getting him on this thing but it’s jammed.”

“We’ll get him, we’ll hoist one of my paramedics down to get a line on him and we’ll bring him up.” John assured.

“I’ll go.” Dean says.

“Why don’t we just swing the lift through a window?” Cas asks.

“There wouldn’t be a safe way to do it. Just, get me down to him. Drop a line for him and he’ll be up here before you can say Bobs your uncle.” Dean says.

“Just be careful man.” Cas says.

“I will dude.”

Dean has the ropes around him, his harness, Gabe, Michael and Raphael anchored his rope as they helped lower him down.

“Okay, more slack!” Dean shouts as he got closer to the victim.

He got safely on to the lift and began to work the rope around the victim so they could lift him up.

But Dean’s vision began to spin. His hands came up to hold the support of the lift.

“Dean, you okay!?” Cas shouts from the ledge.

“Yeah!”

Dean hurries to get the rope around the victim and tries to work on tying the knot.

His dizziness got worse, and worse. Just as he was about to ask for help, Dean passes out.

His body falling off of the lift, and hangs by his harness off of the ledge.

“Try lifting him up a bit!” Cas ordered.

The three brothers tried pulling the rope slightly.

Cas could see Dean wasn’t getting any higher.

“No, stop, he’s tangled. I’m gonna have to head down there.” Cas says.

He heads over to Charlie who handed him some rope, getting the lopes around him, and working his harness on.

Cas hurries over the ledge.

Gabe, Michael, and Raphael tied Dean’s rope to hold him steady as they lowered Cas down to the lift.

“More slack!” Cas ordered as he got closer.  

Cas removed his work gloves to check the victims pulse.

“He’s in full cardiac arrest!” Cas shouts out, communicating.

Cas finishes what Dean had going. Connecting the loops around the victims arms and legs making a makeshift harness.

“Okay, lift him up!” Cas calls out.

The victim slowly rising as Gab, Michael and Raphael pulled the rope lifting the victim up.

“Dean, can you hear me man?” Cas asked, trying to lift Dean onto the lift.

He didn’t respond. He was out cold.

Cas furrowed his brow as he grew concerned for his friend.

“Okay, lift him up!” Cas ordered.

Cas seen the original victim made it over the ledge safely. And Dean began to slowly rise up to the top.

Once everyone was safely up, they got Cas up as well.

Cas helped with the cardiac victim while Charlie and the others assisted with Dean.

 Y/N sat at the nurses station charting her days work about ready to head home when an ambulance and squad approached the door.

She quickly typed up her report, saving it and sending it to her Director, she went to assist the paramedics.

Her heart dropped when she saw one of the patients being wheeled in.

“Dean.”

“Patient one was DOA, heart attack. Dean has a fever of 104.” Cas says.

“Okay, there’s an exam room open, lets get him in there. I’ll page Dr. Singer.”

“Where’s Jack?” Cas asked.

“He’s sick too. He was about to treat Kelly and Chuck when he collapsed. His fever is 103 and climbing.”

“How is Chuck?”

“Not doing well. Let’s focus on Dean please.” Y/N said, keeping the tears of fear at bay.

 Dean was all settled in a room later that night.

“Y/N.” Bobby says as he entered Dean’s room.

“Dr. Singer.”

“Your director doesn’t want you treating him. It’s against ethics.”

“I know. I’m off the clock.”

“Then what are you still doing here?”

“Oh, forgive me for staying by my boyfriend’s side.”

“Y/N, you’re D.O.N is on the other side of the this door. Relax.” He whispered.

“Bobby, I can’t think straight right now. I want to stay by his side, if that’s alright.”

“You can’t just stop everything because he’s sick. The CDC got back to us on the virus, you know this. It’s a strain of the Asian flu, a newer mutated strain. We have a drug we can use.”

She sighs, rubbing her face hard, trying to not get frustrated with herself.

“I know. I just want to know he’s going to be okay is all.”

“You love him. I know. But you have to still live life. Because that don’t stop. You got to keep going kid.”

She nods. “I’m guessing I can’t stay with him due to isolation protocol.”

“You got it. but once he’s better, you can.” She nods again.

“Please, keep me in the loop with him.”

“I’m sure Meg will. Cas was already on her case about him.”

She chuckles with a nod.

“Go home and rest. He’ll still be here tomorrow.”

She nods, leaving with a slump in her shoulders. Heading to her car. Driving quietly home.

It wasn’t until she got out of her shower, and laid in her empty bed did she let her walls come crumbling down.

A sob escaped from her, shaking her to her core.

“God, Dean. Please be okay.” She sobbed.

 The next day, she heads into work trying to focus on her patients.

She learned from one of the over night nurses that Chuck passed away.

Her anxiety already being high enough with her boyfriend being sick with the same virus, but the same virus that killed a fireman.

She headed up to Dean’s room where Meg walked out. Sweating after being in her PPE for some period of time.

“How is he?” she asks.

“Not good. His fever is not even breaking. He had the first 100 Milligrams of Idoxuridine.”

“Has it been two hours?”

“Close, it’s been about an hour and fifty minutes since last dose.”

“Give him another dose of it. Same for Jack if he’s not getting better.”

“Sure thing, I’m sure Bobby will understand.”

Y/N nodded as Meg went back inside to give Dean another dose of the drug.

Y/N headed back to the nurses station to chart her first half of the shift when her D.O.N approached the desk.

“Y/N, I was told you were by Dean’s room yet again. This time on the clock.”

“Sorry Jody, I just—”

“It’s okay, really. Bobby can be a hard ass sometimes, and I know I can be too. But my husband gets sick really easily. And I’d do the same thing you’re doing.” She says.

“Thank you…” she hesitates.

“I have your replacement coming in so you can see him and be with him. Once Donna gets here, go to him.”

“Thank you, thank you.” She says, as tears rise to the surface.

“It’s not a problem.” Jody smiles.

 Days pass as the doctors and nursing staff cared for Dean and Jack for the virus.

Y/N stayed day and night, her D.O.N giving her the week off on FMLA.

She had lost track of the days when she finally allowed herself to sleep.

Kelly was fully recovered and the doctors and nursing staff encouraged her to donate some blood so they can use her antibodies in her blood to donate to Dean and Jack so they have a fighting chance.

His fever finally broke, he was getting better. She could close her eyes and he’d still be there.

She woke that night to a hand on her head, playing with her hair.

She stirred awake to find Dean awake and well.

“Hey.” She says tiredly.

“Hey.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Like I’ve been hit by a truck.” He answers. “Babe, did you stay here all day?”

“Dean, it’s been a week. You’ve been out for a week.”

“Damn…but still, you’ve been here all week?”

“Yes. You scared me.” She says. Taking his hand and placing it on her cheek.

His thumb brushing against her cheekbone. Catching a tear that fell.

“Well I’m sorry for scaring you. But you’re worrying me, did you take care of yourself while you were here?”

“Not really. Haven’t been hungry. I’m not sick or anything.”

“I know, you’ve told me that you’ll get this way. Either in a good way, like an innocent way of binging your favorite show and forgot to eat. Or in a bad way, like this.”

“Let me get Meg and tell her you’re awake.”

Just as she says that, Meg comes walking in.

“Jack’s awake…oh Dean’s awake too.” She says.

“Yeah, he is.” Y/N Says tiredly.

“I’ll get Dr. Singer so we can see when you can go home. And get Y/N to a bed, she hasn’t slept much since she stayed here.”

“Really, not eating or sleeping.”

“She was worked up. who could blame her?” Meg asked.

“True.”

Meg left the room to get Bobby.

Dean not saying a word, pulls Y/N’s arm guiding her in the bed with him.

She happily got in, curling into his side.

He felt a residual tremble shudder through her body.

“Shh, I’m here baby. I’m not going anywhere.” He says.

Not even a tiny virus would tear up this team.

~

A/N: Did you enjoy? How are you liking it so far? Favorites yet? Feedback is fuel and much appreciated. :3

~

Dean Girls:

@pandazombie69​, @luci-in-trenchcoats​, @supernatural-jackles​, @becs-bunker​, @winchesters-favorite-girl​, @jayankles​, @jeaniespiehs20​, @mlovesstories​, @akshi8278​, @flamencodiva​, @anotherspnfanfic​, @megzdoodle​, @lyarr24​

~

Copying and reposting someone else’s content is plagiarism and illegal. This work is property of supernaturallyobsessedchic. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. These works contain material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of these works may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher. An electronic reference link to the original posted work may be provided for purposes of promotion or assistance of publication by the readers discretion, if proper credits are given to the author in the re-post. 3/23/2021

[morganas-pendragons]

fools in love

prompt: that trope where character a just woke up after going through a near death experience and they see character b sitting on a chair beside their bed peacefully sleeping and another character appears and says "oh good you're awake character b has never left your side ever since"

song: fools in love by inara george

tag: @obiorbenkenobi​ @karasong​ @anakinsahsoka​ @dressed-up-heartbreak​ @icanbringyouincold​ @kaminobiwan​

***

Glaring fluorescent lights blur your vision as you lean against the wall adjacent to the bacta tank, eyes narrowing as you try to blink the stars from your vision. You’ve lost count of how long you’ve been standing here. There was something stirring in you that kept you from leaving the room and going to your quarters to sleep.

That something had auburn hair, piercing eyes, and had nearly gotten himself killed - what a wonder, that one, considering he never took care of himself anyway - since the five of you had come back from Kadavo.

How did you get here? Both of you? You weren’t supposed to be in the slaver’s camp, much less subjugate to the methodical torture of the Zygerrian’s as they worked to break you, and you weren’t supposed to have killed so many of them in retaliation for the way they’d hurt him you.

Hurting you was one thing.

Hurting him though.. You’d let the forces of the galaxy rip you apart if it meant he’d be safe.

There’s a coping mechanism that the mind uses in order to spare you from your trauma. It takes the memories of your traumatic time, locks them away, and keeps you from remembering them. You would give anything to have the memories of your time on Kadavo repressed if it meant you could forget the way Obi-Wan screamed when they used the whips again and again and again until blood rushed down his back and he was thrown into the rocks beside you and forced to continue to work.  

“You shouldn’t have done that, Kenobi.” You whisper late in the bunks one night, careful not to wake your fellow slaves as your hands hover over the weeping sores that cover his back. “You could’ve gotten yourself killed.”

 “Contrary to popular belief, my dear-” He took a hand in his own and brushed his lips against the inflamed and cracked skin of your knuckles. “It would be quite a relief to my self conscious to be the one injured instead of you.”

Which was why you stood here, right now, eyes glued to the bacta tank that currently holds Obi-Wan Kenobi. Your mind cannot seem to comprehend what should be a very simple question: How did you get here?

What kind of twist did fate have to drag the two of you together?

 “Oh, Obi-Wan Kenobi.” You whisper, swallowing the knot in your throat as you approach the bacta tank and brush your fingers over the glass. There’s an apprehensiveness to your movements, like your subconscious is trying to urge you to flee before you can be hurt any further. Some wounds are internal. They’re the ones you can’t see. “I always thought you were the fool for never allowing yourself to love.” Which was a lie, one you had blissfully ignored, but Obi-Wan was one of the model Jedi of the Order and one you highly respected. “But I pity the fool who acknowledges the depths of their own affection for a man like yourself.” You pause at the precipice to the hallway and turn to look over your shoulder.  “And the fool was me. What a pity.”

Fools in love, is there any other kind of lover?

Fools in love, is there any other kind of pain?

I should know...

I should know this fools in love again

***

Then.

The first one was when Obi-Wan threw himself in front of you to keep your form from the eyes of Keeper Arguss. Rex had flashed him a warning look almost immediately and stiffened when two Zygerrians came forward to flank Obi-Wan as he was forcefully thrown away from you.

 “Kenobi! I admire your determination in protecting your fellow Jedi, but you should know,” The lever at his side falls forward, and a dozen Torgrutans scream as they fall into the abyss. “Your Jedi morals will have dire consequences.”

You close your eyes as the screams of those helpless Torgrutans - most of which remind you so much of Ahsoka - ring in your ears. You’ll be carrying those ghosts with you for the rest of your life.

***

Then.

It becomes hard to keep track of time once you’re in the cave. The Zygerrian’s set you and the Togrutas to a grueling schedule that lasts for hours. Stale bread and warm water are your only sustenance, and your thoughts are your only company.

Sweetling.. look down at me.

The familiar nickname echoes in your bond with Obi-Wan as you peer to the other side of Rex where Obi-Wan stands. He sees you through his peripheral vision, flashes a smile, and continues in the process of transferring rocks to the transportation carts in front of you. Your muscles ache, your eyes burn, but you carry on.

You have to.

It’s nearing the end of the shift when you feel Rex’s hand on your arm, and the clone captain pulls you nearer to him so you don’t have to see what’s occurring on his opposite side. Obi-Wan, in the midst of his shift, had come to the defense of two Togrutan children who’d been whipped and burnt by their electro collars after having fallen due to the lack of strength. He’d thrown himself into the line of fire and suffered direly for it.

Obi-Wan-

No. His voice is sharp but clearly wavering with the amount of pain he’s in. Do not fret over me when your own life is at stake, sweet one.

You furrow your brow and breathe a small sigh of relief when you and Rex are shoved forward to the room of pallets they’ve distributed for the slaves opposite of the cavern. There’s not enough for all of you, but Rex has offered to take watch - he defends this with his unnatural ability to go hours without sleep - and you sit down with your knees drawn to your chest as sleep evades you.

Obi-Wan curls up in the spot in front of you and attempts to fall asleep. He keeps shifting uncomfortably, and it’s not until the sliver of light coming from the opposite wall shines upon you both that you see why he’s so uncomfortable.

 “You fool. You absolute fool. Why do you keep doing this?” You whisper urgently, lightly pressing your hands against his arm to draw his attention to you. You don’t understand why he’s so careless with his own life. You want to throttle him. To shove every piece of evidence in his direction to show him why his existence is a light, why he’s a flaring glow of Light and joy and beauty in an otherwise dark world that is this galaxy in the midst of a war.

 “You know.” He replies softly.

You shake your head. You really don’t. “Sit up.” He complies with ease and settles in between your parted legs, chest deflating as you trace your hands over the dirtied and torn fabric of his Jedi tunic to curl your fingers along the inside of his forearms. “Relax for me, Obi-Wan. Breathe.”

1..2...3...4...

Obi-Wan gasps as he feels your Force-Presence lingering inside of his mind, surveying his injuries and ascertaining the depths of which ones needs to be treated first and foremost before continuing any further. Had it been the Healers at the Jedi Temple, he would’ve torn himself away and insisted he was fine.

He could never resist your spirit.

 “Sweetling-”

You can feel the skin stitching back together, the muscles loosening and the ache that’s deep in his bones abating as you focus. You can’t expend all of your energy. Not tonight. Not now, not when you’ll be repeating this in the morning.

 “Come to bed with me, Obi.” The plea breaks past your lips before you can stop yourself, and he flashes a questioning look over his shoulder before you lay down and he follows by laying in the curve of your body. Your fingers graze over the column of his neck and curl around his shoulder. “Be at peace.”

You both fall into a fitful sleep.

No peace is found.

***

Now.

Obi-Wan is in the bacta-tank for another week. His burns had been severe, as Kix had recorded in his chart upon having watched you drag his limp body into the medbay, and that didn’t even begin to cover the obvious dehydration and malnutrition. Cracked ribs.. burns.. lack of sleep. Too much to record on one data pad.

He’d treated what he was able, and he’d put Obi-Wan Kenobi into the bacta tank with the hopes that it would do the job it was created to do. What doesn’t surprise him is the fact that you’re there for all of it. The descent, the treatment, the waiting. All of it. 

  “So are you going to tell him?” 

He’s supposed to come out of the bacta today. You’ve been stuck in your memories ever since your return, trying to figure out what you could’ve done differently to maybe have prevented the pain that had been inflicted upon him. While Obi-Wan might’ve been physically harmed, listening to the way he screamed as he was burned to nearly the bone and whipped for a transgression not his own would haunt you forever. 

  “Tell him what?” 

If you allowed yourself to love Obi-Wan Kenobi, he would be the victim of your transgressions and your burdens for as long as you both lived. He’s already suffered enough. You don’t want to be the reason he suffers more. 

  “Don’t play stupid.” Kix chides lightly as he moves to set his data pad on the table and lift the lever to begin lifting Obi-Wan from the bacta tank. ‘’You know exactly what I mean. Are you going to tell him how you feel?” 

The machine hums as you and Kix stand opposite one another on each side of the tank while two junior medics prepare the hover-stretcher beneath you to take Obi-Wan to the medbay for the rest of his recovery. 

Your stomach clenches at the sight of the pale scars that line his back. They look like electro-whip marks. He’ll forever be reminded of how he nearly died for you. 

Shame. 

  “He doesn’t need more suffering on top of what I already gave him.” You murmur, taking the upper half of Obi-Wan’s body into your arms. His head lolls aimlessly on your shoulder, breathing shallow as his lungs prepare themselves for the intake of air after being immersed in the bacta for so long. “He needs to heal. He can’t do that with me.” 

  “I think you’re wrong.” Kix replies as the two of you and the two junior medics lay Obi-Wan down on the hover-stretcher. You pause at the side of the stretcher and take his limp hand into your own before brushing your lips across the back of softened knuckles. “And I think you’re going to regret it.” 

Fools in love Are there any creatures more pathetic Fools in love Never knowing when they've lost again *** 

Then. 

You cannot taste anything. You have lost all sense of time, all sense of direction, and right now you only have one purpose. It’s not keeping yourself alive. It’s keeping Obi-Wan alive. 

Your hands find purchase on his back at night. They heal him. They keep him alive, and Rex keeps you alive. 

Until the Zygerrians use a Togrutan child no older then six years old against you for being unable to do work. It was the lack of sustenance. You snuck your food to Rex who needed the strength more then you did and the Force could only aid you so long. 

It seemed even The Light had abandoned you. 

  “JEDI!” The cold, sharp tone of the Zygerrian supervising the slaves today activates your collar and draws you to your knees. Your desperation turns into a frigid, feral anger that bubbles low in your belly as you defiantly lift your chin. “Get up.” 

  “I’m sorry,” You snarl mockingly. “The lack of food and water is preventing me from being able to work. Forgive me.” 

  “I’ll forgive you when you get back up and get back to work,” Your eyes narrow as he grasps the soiled tunics of the nearest child and presses her against him, fingers digging into her montrals as she whimpers in his embrace. “Get. Up.” 

Obi-Wan draws inward on himself from behind Rex when he watches you stand to your feet and everything moves in slow motion. 

The Togrutan child falls to the floor and doesn't move. You scream -raw and bloody and fierce- as lightning explodes from your fingers and incapacitates the Zygerrian who falls to the floor and seizes from the electric shocks running through his body. Something aids you, fuels you, as more guards run into the room. 

It is you against six other fully grown Zygerrian guards. 

Kenobi stiffens at the sight of you. You don’t have the strength to do this. You don't have the strength to do much of anything, and neither does he, but he absolutely refuses to let you be injured because they exploited your weakness: your compassion. 

Obi-Wan moves away from Rex, braces himself, and before you can do anything, the Jedi Master is throwing himself right into the line of fire. He’s barely wearing anything. He has no strength. No will. No endurance. Not after all of this. 

Kadavo had been designed to break you. Seems it did. 

  “Obi-Wan!” 

Something is burning. Skin. It’s skin. Upon seeing Obi-Wan at your feet, you throw all caution to the wind and grimace as you throw yourself atop him and shield his body with your own. After taking the brunt of the electro-whips and the collar being activated, The Force is leaving you with every movement and you just want to scream at how unfair this is. 

And then the head guard says something about Argus, and then you and Rex and Obi-Wan are being dragged into the main facility. You’re concerned about the fact that Force lightning shot from your fingers. You’re concerned about the way Obi-Wan is writhing and there’s weeping wounds on his arms and his back is raw from the burns, and you want to keel over right there and vomit on the floor. 

Luck is not on your side. Nothing is on your side. 

Nothing but the dark. 

By the end of it all, Anakin and Ahsoka are the ones to come and retrieve you. When you finally see your most beloved is when you allow yourself to succumb to what has happened by falling unconscious in Ahsoka’s arms. 

***  Now. 

You trace the white scars on the inside of your arms, evidence of your time on Kadavo, before returning your attention to his bedside. Obi-Wan now lays supine in the medbay bed, eyes closed and blankets pulled up to his chin as he sleeps. He’s only woken up one time. 

You’re grateful for the silence. It’s given you a lot of time to think. 

  “Ah, there she is.” Anakin muses as he takes a seat beside you and pulls your legs into his lap. “You gonna tell me why Rex said you shot Force lightning at the zygerrian guards? Or why Obi-Wan threw himself into the jaws of death by nearly being burned to the bone because of your outburst? Sounds like something I’d do.

You pause and pull your lip between your teeth. 

  “You don’t have to talk. Just listen. I know that he’s not easy to love. I mean, why would you? He’s a walking disaster. Just the fact that you had to drag him down here tells me enough. Here’s what you need to remember.. When Obi-Wan loves, he loves with everything he has. Why else would he suffer so harshly? Why else would he go to such an effort to keep you safe?” Anakin places your feet back on the ground, stands to his feet, and places a kiss upon your palm, “We all know. When he wakes up... you should tell him.” 

You smile softly at the Jedi Knight as you draw your knees to your chest. “Maybe.” You whisper into the silence. Anakin flashes a smile in reply and moves to the opposite side of the room to talk to Kix in hushed tones about Obi-Wan’s condition. “Kenobi, Kenobi... You’ll be the death of me.” 

You draw your chair closer to his bed and take his hand in your own, linking your fingers through his own before you press your forehead against the mattress and fall asleep. 

Fools in love Gently hold each other's hands forever Fools in love Gently tear each others limb from limb

*** 

Now. 

When Obi-Wan wakes, he’s expecting to be greeted by the auburn aura of fire and the smell of charcoal. Instead he’s greeted by the cold white walls of the medbay on The Resolute. 

The warmth of skin on skin radiates against his hand as his eyes slowly flutter open and he takes in his surroundings. Kix is standing on the other side of his bed when he finally comes to consciousness, and he’s smiling as he takes Obi-Wan’s chin in his hands and slowly rolls it to his opposite shoulder. 

  “I’m glad you’re awake. She’s been there since I brought you in here.” 

You lay awkwardly curled up, hair mussed and lips slightly parted as you sleep soundly at his side. 

Tears brim his eyes as his gaze falls back to the ceiling. Force... Force, does that mean-

  “Yeah, Kenobi. You already know.” Kix murmurs as he reapplies the sedative while checking Obi-Wan’s bandages. “Should’ve realized.” 

He falls back into a painless sleep with your eyes on his mind. 

Fools in love they think they're heroes Because they get to feel no pain I say fools in love are zeros, I should know, I should know because this fool's in love again

bonus: 

Your scars heal, obi-wan’s wounds close over, and before you’re sent back onto the front lines of the war.. you have a moment of peace that you’d so desperately craved after kadavo. 

  “Obi-Wan-” 

He pulls you into a darkened corner of the negotiator, eyelashes fluttering and chest constricting as he leans inward inward inward force help him- “I should know,” he whispers. It’s been too long of denying himself of his desires, too long of yearning to speak to you about his heart and about how fearful he was when you’d fought the Zygerrian guards. “I should know because this fool’s in love again.” 

As he captured your mouth in his own, you made a mental note to yourself for later: Reminder, thank Kix. 

You did.