#pen pals au

[lord-squiggletits]

What do you think Pharma's relationship with flight/his alt-form is?

He's pretty divorced from his flying alt-mode, mainly for internalized Functionism reasons imo. It's not that Pharma has any aspersions towards or fear of flying, but I think because of his alt-mode exemption-- the fact that he literally had to be an exception,that he became a doctor despite being a jet rather than simply being a doctor and a jet-- he distanced himself from his alt-mode at least on a subconscious level because, politically/socially, maintaining his safety and position in society meant that he was forced to play up his "forged medic" half and downplay his "jet" half. It's honestly the only plausible explanation I can come up with to explain Tyrest's "famous for being forged" line bc that's literally the only thing I can think of that would make Pharma famous for being forged and not just for being a doctor.

I'm struggling to find a good, non-offensive allegory, but I'd imagine it's a similar struggle to someone who's biracial, multicultural, multinational, etc: there's always a struggle where people whose existence/identity straddles multiple boundaries always get forced into only being one of those things, not allowed to be multilayered and complex. For Functionist reasons, Pharma can't just be a doctor who turns into a jet, he has to be a Doctor TM and be really good at being a Doctor TM because that's the role/half of himself that society has decided is the most important part. Not only as a matter of prejudice, but that he was literally told "you exist to be a Doctor TM (but actually we could take away your ability to be a doctor at any time)."

So as a result of all that, I actually take Pharma's lack of transforming on-screen in canon and extrapolate that into the headcanon that Pharma rarely transforms/flies in general. For one, it's just because he physically needs to be in root mode to do his job, and his job is basically the only thing he does, ergo he's in root mode basically all the time. And for two, bc of internalized Functionism, Pharma basically distanced himself from his alt-mode and neglected flying as part of his lifestyle. Sort of a defense mechanism of "If I fly too much or enjoy flying recreationally/as a sport, what if someone Notices and decides I make a better jet than doctor."

I actually headcanon that Pharma is shit at flying and very noticeably so, like to the point that other jet alt-modes are like "Dude wtf how can you be forged as a jet and fly this badly." It sucks really badly for Pharma bc it basically then puts him in a position where in the world of the intellectual class, he's otherized as Alt-Mode Exempt TM, but in the world of other jets, he's otherized because he's not freight/military and doesn't have the same lived experiences, skills, culture, etc that other jets do. So unfortunately, Pharma basically lives that mixed kid life of "No matter where I go, I'm always the odd one out because people always notice how I'm Not Fully One Of Them."

[kelpiekidd]

Silly AU idea I'm calling the pen pals AU.

Basically, The Narrator is the deity of stories/storytelling. He has long since been forgotten by the mortals, no longer worshipped by anyone. Stanley accidentally starts writing him letters. This happens because Stanley starts journaling, tucking away what he wrote in an envelope, and burning it. The wires get crossed somehow and the letters start arriving in The Narrator's domain.

The Narrator thinks this is intentional and that these are letters written to him, and is overjoyed he is not completely forgotten. He starts affecting Stanley's daily life in little ways, sometimes big things. Complains about his coworker in a journal entry? Misfortune befalls him. Stanley is clueless to this. Eventually The Narrator starts infiltrating his dreams and speaking to him, and writing stories for him to play out in his dreams. Hijinks and whatnot.

TL;DR Stanley suddenly falls into the odd company of eldritch deities beyond his understanding by accident.

[violet-foxe]

I figured I might as well post some of this here so that I don't have to scroll through a bunch of reading to see them. This is for the penpal au because Alex is adorable.

Link to the penpal au

[chiakery]

Pairing: Jester Lavorre/Beauregard Lionett

Rating: Teen and Up

Current word count: 3064

Summary: What if years before the start of the campaign 2 young, lonely Jester sent a letter, hoping to find a friend? And what if young, angry Beauregard found that letter and replied?

What if they became pen pals and friends? What if they fell in love?

[amyisherenowitsokay]

Can we plsplspls get a LITTLE sneaky peaky at the pen pals AU

Just a little tiny weeny peak please 🥺

For you anon, of course <3

I'm copying and pasting instead of my usual method of curated screenshots because I'm being lazy. Here ya go.

Pen Pals AU (Spoilers, obviously) ft. my OC for this fic, Amagda

Word Count: 600ish

“Rumor is it got nastyyyy,” she hummed, pointing his utensil Zim’s way. “I’ve got people who would pay a lot of money to find out how you managed to get a prisoner out from right under the nose of the Massive.”

Zim’s smirk was thin, though no less smug. “You’ll have to offer them some other incentive to spend their monies.”

She deflated. “Aw, come on, Zim. I could send you a percentage. I can be reasonable! How’s 40% sound to you?”

Zim scoffed. That was a laughable deal, and they both knew it. “Terrible,” he replied. “Besides, any creature stupid enough to attempt infiltration without a plan of their own would only end up caught. And when they’re interrogated, who do you think they will point appendages at, hmm?”

Across from him, Amagda paled. “Mm,” she hummed. “Fair enough.”

“You’d do well to keep far from the Armada in the coming rotations,” he warned, idly. A glance her way showed he suddenly had her full attention, even if both of them were feigning a casual disinterest. 

“Noted,” she said simply. Her facade of professionalism didn’t last long. She couldn’t resist shooting him a grin. “For Armada-level trouble, you’re going to need Armada-level weapons.”

He held up a hand, stopping her salesman's pitch in its tracks. As much as he appreciated her company, he was in a rush today. A meal could not be avoided without risking offense, but small talk would need to be kept to a minimum.

“I’m more interested in supplies more suitable for a lengthy journey,” he insisted.

Amagda’s face smoothed. Business was the only thing she took seriously. “We’re talking fuel, medical supplies, refurbishments, rations, the works?”

He nodded. “Among other things. What do you have in way of comforts?”

Her brow rose slowly. “Comforts.”

Zim only offered a nod, doing his best to keep a straight face. He already dreaded the oncoming reaction. It was best to suffer through it with as little of a reaction on his end as possible. With any luck, she’d run out of steam quicker that way.

“Uh,” she frowned, mulling the request over. “In a ship like yours? Assuming you didn’t want to waste time with more extensive upgrades?” He nodded. After a lengthy pause that clearly indicated she was waiting for him to elaborate, her expression began to sour. “I’m going to need more direction here, Zim.”

He steepled his fingers, drumming the pads of his fingers against one another. “Hypothetically speaking,” he began. 

Across from him, Amagda visibly perked. Hypotheticals was a favorite game of theirs. Admitting to something without ever admitting you knew. Pointless, but it often managed to get him what he needed without excessive prying. 

“Hypothetically speaking,” he repeated. “Let’s say I have a guest.”

“A guest,” she said slowly, but her eyes were bright with interest. “Hypothetically speaking, this guest might be . . .?”

“Someone of significance,” he supplied. “Fragiler than most bipedal creatures, and ill used to space travel.”

Amagda’s grin began to stretch wide. “Hypothetically speaking,” she nearly purred. “Would you also be interested in materials that might aid in a . . . personal acquaintanceship with one another?”

Zim pointedly kept his mouth shut, only offering a smile.

Her palms smacked together gleefully. “And here I was, worrying a psychopath like you would stay on the market forever. What a dunce I am!”

[rafesbabygirlx]

THE PEN PAL

𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚒 𝚜𝚖𝚊𝚞 𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚘𝚗!𝚛𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝚌𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚐𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚝!𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

𝚜𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: 𝙰𝚜 𝚊 𝙿𝚜𝚢𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚢 𝚖𝚊𝚓𝚘𝚛, 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚎𝚊𝚐𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚘 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚡𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚘𝚗 𝚜𝚢𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚖 𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚜𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚏 𝚒𝚝’𝚜 𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚞𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚋𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚏𝚒𝚌𝚒𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚒𝚗 𝚒𝚝𝚜 𝚛𝚎𝚑𝚊𝚋𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚘𝚏 𝚒𝚝𝚜 𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚛𝚜. 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚒𝚙𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚙𝚎𝚗-𝚙𝚊𝚕 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚖 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚊𝚗 𝚒𝚗𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚏𝚞𝚛𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚍𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚌𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚘𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚎𝚜. 𝙱𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙾𝚞𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝙱𝚊𝚗𝚔𝚜, 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚎𝚕𝚝 𝚊 𝚙𝚞𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚘𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚝𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚂𝚝𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝙼𝚊𝚡𝚒𝚖𝚞𝚖 𝚂𝚎𝚌𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚢 𝙿𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚘𝚗 𝚒𝚗 𝙽𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚑 𝙲𝚊𝚛𝚘𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚊. 𝚂𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚒𝚗𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚜, 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚗𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚐𝚗𝚒𝚣𝚎 𝚊 𝚏𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚊𝚛 𝚗𝚊𝚖𝚎—𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝙲𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚛𝚘𝚗, 𝚊 𝚌𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚏𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚙𝚊𝚜𝚝. 𝚆𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚋𝚎𝚐𝚊𝚗 𝚊𝚜 𝚊 𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚍𝚢 𝚘𝚏 𝚛𝚎𝚑𝚊𝚋𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚞𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚢 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕. 𝙴𝚊𝚌𝚑 𝚕𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚞𝚗𝚟𝚎𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚙𝚒𝚎𝚌𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚎, 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚛𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚊𝚍𝚗’𝚝 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚙𝚞𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚊 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚛𝚕𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚏 𝚖𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜, 𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 ���𝚎𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚍.

𝚆𝚎 𝚜𝚙𝚘𝚔𝚎 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚖𝚢 𝚙𝚕𝚘𝚝. 𝙸 𝚙𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚝 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚊𝚜 𝚜𝚘𝚘𝚗 𝚊𝚜 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚙𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚎. 𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚘 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐. 💗 @maybejj

𝚋𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚙𝚑𝚒𝚌𝚜 𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚢: @zyafics & @rafescvntyclubgf

⛓ 𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝 1 ⛓

⛓ 𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝 2 ⛓

⛓ 𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝 3 ⛓

⛓ 𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝 4 ⛓

⛓ 𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝 5 ⛓

⛓ 𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝 6 ⛓

⛓ 𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝 7 ⛓

⛓ 𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝 8 ⛓

⛓ 𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝 9 ⛓

⛓ 𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝 10 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙴𝚗𝚍 ⛓

*Tagging some of my usuals- let me know if you prefer not to be <3

Taglist plus some moots 💗- @rafestoothbrush @weluvwbb @itsforeverandalwayz @megiiite @percysley @siredbtches @bigenergy777 @aupernatural-teenwolflover @slut4you @rafegf-real @skywalker0809 @kieeslove @snowtargaryen @angelicameron @maybankslover @etheraltides @rafesheaven @cameronsprincess @cooper8224 @hockeybabe87 @xdaughterofpersephonex @leather-n-velvet @mima116 @zyafics @urbrunettebombshell @pogueprincesa @purplerose291 @frankoceanluvr11 @ivysprophecy @starsmoonn @akobx @rafestify @httpsdrewstarkey @marleymarleymarleymarley @littlelamy @rafesgreasycurtainbangs @diasnohibng @slut-4-gojo @edixicted

[lord-squiggletits]

An unlikely series of conversations between Megatron and Optimus Prime leads them to an understanding, and they both agree to end the war and join their factions to rebuild Cybertron as one. At first, the greatest struggle is finding enough resources to keep everyone fueled and repaired, but relationships between the Autobots and Decepticons remain tense. In the name of the letters that brought them to peace, Megatron and Optimus create the Power of Words Exchange: a cross-faction pen pals program meant to bring people together anonymously to bond and learn about each other free of preconceptions. However, many people still question how clean the slate is between the factions... and exactly which people's hands are too dirty to be granted forgiveness. In the wake of the peace treaty, Pharma becomes CMO of the Autobots, Tarn becomes a Decepticon activist in Megatron's image, and both of them suffer under the weight of what they always wanted.

Tarnma Pen Pals AU is finally up! And I also made a series of no-context memes for this first chapter

[violet-foxe]

Oo! Oo!

And Gerald is a lawyer, so he knows the law well enough to fight for Phantom's custody!

There is two ways this can go. Either, they don't know about Danny's human half, and he gets adopted by this lovely little family anyway, with little shenanigans in covering up his secrets,

Or they figure out that Phantom is Fenton! And they fight Jack and Maddie for custody over child neglect, child endangerment (for multiple reasons), child murder, child abuse, and much more. They ain't getting out of this one.

But for both:

Gerald, when he realizes that the Fenton's and the GIW are such a big problem because of the Anti-Ecto acts, tries to appeal to the court that it is unconstitutional because ghosts are mislabeled as non sentient, and even if they weren't sentient, they should still be protected by animal acts at the very least. Because if ghosts are considered animals, what the GIW and the Fenton's are doing is animal cruelty.

Also, since many ghosts are sentient, and can be proven sentient or at least intelligent with turing tests, and other sentience tests.

And just for funsies, their last name is nightingale because they are long loss many times removed cousins of Danny related all the way back to John Fenton-Nightingale or whatever his name is. That's just so cute to me

Evelyn, Gerald, and Alex Nightingale

Real quick, I just want to say that Danny Phantom only being seen during ghost fights is a little funny because imagine there being this ghost kid in your town defending everyone and himself from other ghosts who are almost always bigger than him, but as soon as he notices someone nearby or someone tries to talk to him, he vanishes and runs away. A lot of people think he had social anxiety or something when he was alive, or maybe he’s scared of humans because of ghost hunters, so most people don’t go looking for him.

One day a kid decides to leave a note at a park. The note was for Phantom, thanking him for saving a relative of the kid’s. To everyone’s surprise, Phantom leaves a reply for the next day. Here’s an example.

To Phantom,

Thank you so so so so so much for saving my dad today!!! I was so scared that he was going to get really really hurt, but you saved him!!! Mom and dad both say you don’t like talking to people because there are bad people who want to hurt you, so I’m leaving you this note! I hope you see it! Oh, and my mom and dad say thanks too!! I hope you have an amazing day and stay safe from the bad people!!

From Alex

To Alex,

Your very welcome! Honestly, I was scared your dad was going to get hurt too, but I’m glad to hear he’s doing well now. It’s true, there are bad people, but I’m happy that there are also good people who appreciate me trying to help. Thank you for not trying to find me and instead leaving the note. I appreciate it! Hope you have a great day too!

P.S. Would you mind keeping this letter between you and your parents please? Reading this really warmed my heart core, but I really don’t want to suddenly have a ton of notes all over the park. I might be so busy trying to reply, I probably won’t get any sleep. And yes, some ghosts do need sleep.

From Phantom

[impyssadobsessions]

DPxDC idea/prompt Pen Pals

(Probably more idea but you can run with the concept... im so srry XD) Basically Danny and Damian are pen pals- until Damian receives a letter with Lazarus Water and Blood smeared on the page.

WHAT IF Danny and Damian were pen pals before Danny's accident. A school project for 8th grade. Damian was reluctant to participate but due to it being a grade and being pestered by his siblings that he would just scare the kid off anyways, he deciding to partake in this pen pal. Danny whose not suffering at school, just living a normal life at the moment, is being teased by Dash saying his pen pal could smell loser before even opening the letter. Asking Danny if his parents even let him open the letter or blast it thinking its a ghost. Which makes Danny who wasn't into this idea of writing a stranger more determined to do it. Besides they might only get one letter and teachers drop the subject. They might not even get it. So what the heck. Turns out they become the only ones that constantly wrote each other- even mailing it in person once the school ended the program. (Damian having a post box set up for letters)

At first it was awkward. Danny commented/asking if Damian really was their age or some teacher pretending to write back instead of sending out the letters. If so. He sucks at it because what kid writes perfectly grammar letters and big words to convey something is cool. Guess its better than pretending he knows slang. Damian furious writes back, offended! Also asks if he isn't younger, because everyone with basic english should know to capitalize their letters! This goes back and fourth. Danny writing back every chance he got, and Damian doing the same, even being told not to at the dinner table. It goes from offended at each other to being curious. Danny asking Damian more advice on english because it isn't his favorite subject. Damian asking more about how to sound like his age. Then it devolves to animals. Danny wishing he had one, but his parents didn't want one getting into the lab. Damian happily sending picture of his animals. Danny talking more about the stars.. etc. Until Accident happens- Danny starts having trouble writing the letters. His pen with phase through his hand and replies between them got longer. Danny justifying this by saying he's having trouble with schooling this year. Damian also been unable to send as many replies because he's been busy with teen titans and other heroics. Though he's encouraging Danny saying Danny is far smarter than that school even is aware of. Until one day, after months of not being able to reply. He finds Damian's letter again. It makes him feel better. Even if Damian didn't know him... this person still believes in Danny... Though Danny feels guilty about it- it compels him to write him again. He was about to finish the letter when he gets blasted by a ghost. He returns from the fight, beaten and bloody. He picks up the letter and sighs at the green stain left on it. Folding it up he stuffs it into his bag. Next day after hurrying off to school, his mother finds the letter after it had fallen on the floor. She read a little bit of it and immediately recognize it was to Danny's penpal. She takes the opportunity to try her knew anti-ecto spray and mails it for Danny. "Boy just like his father. So messy. I'll have to give him a lecture about ecto-contamination again." Damian just returned from a mission from Teen Titans, been gone for three months. Alfred informs Damian he had received a letter from his anonymous pen pal in his absence. Damian had almost forgotten about the pen pal- thinking his pal just didn't want to answer anymore. So eagerly he goes to his room to open the letter, but immediately blood drain from his face as his eyes zoomed back the feathery ink to the green blotch of lazurus water.. having almost evaporated.. leaving a water stain that glowed... and more importantly.. the human specks of blood that was revealed with the driest parts of the stain. Damian immediately rushes to the cave.. only to find out his paranoia was right.... and was it his fault his friend was harmed? Also the idea of Damian talking to Phantom in his robin suit. Asking how Daniel Fenton was.. and Phantom surprised and slips out a "Alive as much as he's dead." Damian glaring and Phantom corrects, "He's fine. He has parents that are ghost hunters is all." Stressing his situation complicated. Phantom just so shocked his pen pal is a hero- annnnd also cursing his mom for sending a letter like that. HE KNEW IT WOULD SEND IMPLICATIONS!

but idk if I figured out a good way for Damian to see the smeared letter. I just think it be fun. Also Damian thinking he's to blame for league going after the fentons when he wasn't. At least not as early as he thought. He's very focused on saving/protecting Danny Fenton.. which makes Phantom's job harder.

[harmonyrae]

Knight of Passion

Synopsis: You’ve written to him for 16 years, you know him better than you know yourself. When he returns home from the battlefield you’re shocked to find out he’s being honored… by the Queen herself. Oh, and he wants to finally meet you, face-to-face. 

AN: This is my FIRST Caleb fic, so I am still learning how to write him. I will be honest, I am not a fan of the nickname pipsqueak BUT I found a way to incorporate it!

Content Warnings: SFW (future works could have NSFW elements fyi), plot & angst, injury & blood, death of parental figures mentioned, Knight Caleb be doing things to me dude (send help), FMC struggles with body image 

Word Count: 5.7k

“Mama… I- I can barely breathe!” 

After what feels like hours, your mother finally stops trying to pull your dress down over your hips. You’ve always had a wider frame than your sisters, but it seems your body knew about your debut and wanted to offer a surprise. Just one winter was all it took for you to finally grow breasts. Your hips followed suit and when the snow melted you couldn’t fit into any of your spring dresses. Your mother found a dress for the debut ceremony at the palace, but you hadn’t gotten the chance to go shopping for more.

“I’m sorry darling, we will have Miss Julia come by tomorrow to get your measurements. You can tell her exactly what kind of dresses you want. I’ll put a rush on the order and you should have your dresses before the first ball.”

“But what am I going to wear today? I can’t go to the palace in my chemise.”

Your mother stands back and rests her hands on her hips. You cross your arms in front of you and stare at your feet. Your mothers hand glides through your hair.

“I have a few dresses from when I carried Eleanora. They’re not extravagant, but they will fit. And we can add a silk wrap or necklace, you’ll look lovely.”

You walk over to your bed and sit down, placing your head in your hands.

“Everyone will know it’s a breeding dress Mama!”

“Theodora!”

You look at her with tears in your eyes and her frown fades. She sits beside you and urges you to lean over and rest your head on her shoulder.

“I went through a change like this when I was your age. Maybe a tad younger… I begged my mother to let me delay my debut, but she didn’t allow it. I never would have met your father if I had hidden myself away. I should have requested Miss Julia sooner, I didn’t expect Cora and Rafayel to arrive early.”

You thought once Cora and Sera had gotten married and moved away you wouldn’t have to fight for your mothers attention. Of course, the week before your debut both of your sisters arrive to tell your mother they are with child. Your mother was overjoyed, Winnie and Ellie were squealing, your mother began searching for a special tea recipe and you were sitting in the corner completely forgotten. You were happy for your sisters, but felt wholly unprepared when the day of your debut arrived.  

“I promise you have my undivided attention, my dear. Cora and Sera have both been asking what they can do to help you. Maybe they can help you pick some dress patterns? Would you like that?”

You smile, you have missed them terribly. Your mother stands and gently swipes away your tears with her thumbs. 

“I’ll find the dress and we’ll be on our way to the palace in no time at all.”

“Mama, are you sure I must go?” 

“No one has been knighted in many years, the Queen wants this ceremony to be special. Turning it into a social event is rather uncommon, but I hear the young man who is receiving the commendation is more than worthy of a unique experience. Now, I will only be a moment!”

Your mother leaves to rummage through her chests for a dress. You sit at your desk and open the top drawer, flipping through bundles of letters with your finger.

“January, February… March! Here we are.”

You pull out a bundle of letters and untie the knot. Opening the first envelope you pull the letter free. You try not to frown as you examine the writing, his penmanship has gotten worse since Christmas. You quietly read out-loud.

Theo, Another week where I can’t stomach anything but potato soup. The cook must hate me. And the nurses, cleaning up after me is surely exhausting. Remember the recipe you sent me last autumn? The apple cake? I begged a nurse to find the letter and pass the recipe along. They told me this morning they’ll try to make it for me as a farewell present. I still can’t believe they’re shipping me home. They must think I won’t make it if I don’t see a special doctor. If this is my last letter to you… no, I only want to say that in person. Do you still want that? Or do you still like “the mystery”? Either way, thank you for writing to me all these years. Don’t know what I would have done without you.  I’ll write to you as soon as I’m home. If I make it there.  Caleb

You fold the letter and carefully put it back in the envelope. Nearly a month has passed since you received it. The trip couldn’t have taken that long, could it? Your throat threatens to close at the thought of Caleb never writing to you again. After almost 16 years, you’re not sure what you would do. 

“I found one! And it’s your favorite color too!”

You quickly slide the bundle of letters back in the drawer before your mother enters with a bright yellow dress draped over her arm.

“Come on, let’s get you dressed.”

The loose silk dress slides over your curves with ease and you sigh, at least it fits. The yellow shimmers in the sunlight streaming through your window, if it weren’t for the lack of a waistline you would consider wearing the dress again. Your mother eases your arms through the thick lace overcoat, adjusting the short puffy sleeves. She ties a white silk scarf under your breasts to carve out your shape and turns you to face the mirror. 

“See? You look lovely. The scarf is much more fashionable than the plain belt I wore.”

You give her a sweet smile and nod. She leaves to finish getting ready herself and you take a moment to look through your old dresses piled on your bed. Your younger sisters are taller than you so your mother won’t keep them. 

You skip down the stairs, eager to find Ms Jennings before your mother drags you out of the house. You call for her and she rounds the corner to meet you at the bottom of the stairs. The wrinkles around her eyes deepen as she smiles at you.

“Any –”

“No letters today Miss. And yes, I’ve checked twice.”

You’ve asked her the same question for a fortnight and you’re thankful your mother hasn’t overheard. Ms Jennings started delivering Caleb’s letters directly to you when you turned 13. The arrangement between noble families was only meant to last a few years, but you and Caleb agreed to continue anyway. 

Your penmanship as a child was horrible, as was your reading proficiency. You cried and threw a fit whenever your mother tried to encourage you to practice. Your mother discussed the problem over tea with other mothers and discovered it was a common problem. They came up with a creative solution, pairing their children together to write letters. What started as a method to improve your writing and reading turned into a lifelong friendship. 

You nod, sending Ms Jennings on her way. You begin pacing through the entryway, the soft click of your heels drowning out your anxious thoughts. Then there’s a quiet knock on the door. You didn’t wait for Ms Jennings and approached the door without a second thought. As soon as the door swung open you wished you had been more patient. You were face-to-face with a man's chest and had to step back to look up at him properly.

The man is tall, broad, a sweep of dark brown hair sits neatly across his forehead. His jaw set as his violet eyes examined you. You quickly give him a once over, still baffled at how large he is compared to you. His dark blue frock coat is fully buttoned, the velvet material stretched taut over his chest. The golden buttons and dainty medals glint in the sunshine. His shako is tucked under his arm, his gloved fingers tracing the chinstrap repeatedly. The sleeve of his right arm is rather loose and your heartbeat quickens with a singular assumption.

You clear your throat and stand up straight.

“Apologies, may I… help you?”

The man smiles, his face transforming and quite literally taking your breath away. You suppress a gasp and force a smile in return. He bows.

“I do not mean to intrude, I know it’s… unusual, but I was hoping to call on Miss Theodora Raeton?”

Your breakfast makes an attempt to resurface and you swallow hard. You grip the door handle so tightly your hand begins to ache.

“Who is asking?”

You want to slap yourself for being so improper, but you’re a tad too focused on staying on your feet to care.

“Caleb, I… Well, I’d like to think I’m a friend?”

You let out a laugh - somewhere between a chuckle and a sob. You shake your head and force your smile to stay put. 

“She… My sister - Theodora… yes, she told me, uhm… yes, she told me about you. You wrote letters, yes?”

His eyes narrow, the corner of his mouth twitches as his smile fades for a moment. His nostrils flare as he takes a deep breath and shifts his weight between his feet. When his smile returns it’s brighter than before.

“Yes, for many years. I’m hoping to finally speak to her face-to-face.”

You start chewing the inside of your cheek, a habit you’ve constantly failed to break. 

“I- I’m not sure she’s in… at the moment… She might be… out.”

He chuckles under his breath and drops his head, his hair gently falling out of place. Your fingers twitch with the thought of reaching out to fix it. 

“Of course. Might I request you pass this along to her?”

He slowly lifts his right arm, his face twists as if he’s in pain and you take a step forward. He holds up a letter and you take it quickly, allowing his arm to return to his side. He huffs and takes a small step back. 

“Thank you.”

You hear a man shout his name and you look past him, seeing a small group of men in matching uniforms on their horses. One of them waves at him, beckoning him to come over. You look up to see Caleb staring down at you. 

“Please, forgive me, but I must go.”

He bows once more and walks back through the front gate of your house. He secures his hat before awkwardly jumping up onto his horse using only his left arm. You watch as he rides away with the men, glancing over his shoulder to smile at you before disappearing at the end of the street. Once he is out of sight you hurry inside and close the door, leaning against it while you catch your breath. You open the envelope hastily, almost ripping the paper.

Theo, You must hate me, it’s been too long since I last wrote. The journey home was long and I was sent to a doctor intent on forcing me to rest. He would not give me paper no matter how many times I requested it. Even the nurses were afraid of him. I’ll beg for your forgiveness if I must. The doctor said I won’t be returning to the battlefield. I am settled in my family home. The steward maintained it well after my parents died. The swing is still on the oak on the hill looking over the orchard. And Pip is still alive, she’s slow but can still walk with me through the grounds. I want to see you. I need to see you. There are things I want to say, things I can’t write. Please, Theo, I do not wish to know you as only words on paper. Please. Caleb

You wipe away a tear as you return the letter to the envelope and stuff it in a book to carry upstairs. Your mother runs into you and holds your shoulders, leaning down to look you in the eye.

“My darling, whatever is the matter?”

“Nothing… I was reading… the dust… I will just put this in my room and we can go,”

You do not wait for her response, you rush past her and run to your room. You quietly close the door and sit down at your desk. Pulling out the envelope, you notice the estate name in the corner. He never had your letters sent there while his parents were alive, a pub received the letters and he would pick them up every other day. It’s his estate now, he has the freedom to do whatever he pleases. You, however, do not have the same luxury. You stuff the envelope in the drawer with the other letters and hurry to join your mother in the carriage. The Queen awaits. 

The palace is nearly full when you arrive with your mother, a feat you believed to be impossible. Your mother quickly finds your sisters and their husbands. Thanks to your brother-in-laws status as a Duke, you are all escorted closer to the throne. 

“I can request seating for you? You should sit. You both should sit. I’ll find someone…”

“Sylus! We’re fine.”

Sera places a hand on Sylus’s arm and draws him back to her side. For someone who is usually so suave and carefree, Sylus has become a tad overbearing since he found out Sera is expecting. It doesn’t go unnoticed that Rafayel also doesn’t let go of Cora for even a moment. You giggle and your mother gives you a warning look. Sera winks at you and you cover your mouth to hide your smile. 

Soft music begins playing and you lean forward to see the Queen arrive. You curtsy and tilt your head to see when everyone else will rise. Your thighs start to burn and you honestly wonder if the Queen wants to see a young lady faint. Thankfully, her majesty isn’t feeling too cruel today. Everyone shuffles into a comfortable position as the Queen leans back on her throne. 

“Today, we are here to honor a young man, who has shown valor beyond his years. Placing himself in danger, maimed by the misfortune of an eruption! All to protect his fellow officer!”

Whispers of praise surround you, ladies oohing and ahhing, gentlemen nodding in approval of his bravery. But for you, the room becomes unbearably hot. You shift uncomfortably and feel your mother behind you, gently holding you still. You feel as though you are finally piecing a puzzle together. 

“I have been called upon by his peers to issue him the highest honor. And that is exactly why we are gathered here today. As we have not had the privilege in some time, I believe a traditional ceremony with a few embellishments is warranted. Shall we begin?”

Large doors at the back of the room open and everyone around you is already blocking your view. You hear footsteps and the muffled whispers around you slowly fade until all you can hear is your heartbeat.

Caleb marches past with his peers. The group bows before the Queen and she gives them a subtle nod. All the men besides Caleb step back and Caleb kneels. An older gentleman holding two swords steps up beside the Queen.

“I have been told of your prowess in battle, your peers praise you and wish your sacrifice be made honorable. I am of the mind to admit you to the Order of Skyhaven. Will you accept this honour?”

“I will.”

“Will you give us your word that all you do will serve as a noble example to our people?”

“I will.”

“Will you treat all with courtesy, and uphold the laws and traditions of our kingdom?”

“I will.”

“Will you swear fealty to us, our crown?”

“I will.”

“Then we swear fealty to you, Caleb, to protect and defend you and all your household, with all our power, until we depart from our throne, or death takes us.”

The gentleman steps forward and motions for Caleb to rise. He sheaths the sword and secures it around Caleb’s waist. He holds up the other sword and steps up to face Caleb. With one swift motion he strikes Caleb across the face with the flat of his sword. The crowd collectively gasps and the Queen gives a stern look, effectively silencing everyone. You clutch the front of your dress and bite your lip so hard you taste copper. You remember reading about knighting ceremonies, the act is traditional, but witnessing it first-hand made your stomach drop. Caleb kneels again and bows his head. Another officer approaches and presents the Queen a sword. She proceeds to lower the blade onto Caleb’s shoulder and lifts it to switch to the other side.

“I dub thee once, dub thee twice, dub thee Knight. From this day forward, let no blade touch you, that you live with honour, courage and prowess. We command you to protect the defenceless, seek justice for all, and maintain the honour of your order. Bring no dishonour to your sword, and carry it in defence of any and all who have need of it. Sir Caleb, rise and go forth. For Sir Caleb, newest Knight of the Order of Skyhaven, three cheers!”

The crowd cheers as Caleb stands, bowing once more before turning around. He rests his hand on the hilt of his new sword and looks around. His eyes lock onto you and you step back, hiding behind Sylus who looks down at you with an amused grin.

You keep your head down until Caleb and his fellow officers exit the room. The crowd slowly filters out, but you remain frozen in place. Your mother tugs on your arm and when you don’t move she lifts her hand to your forehead.

“Theodora? Are you feeling poorly?”

You shake your head and stumble forward, letting your mother hold your arm and guide you out of the room. Caleb, the man you’ve written to for 16 years, who you thought was dead until this morning, who is far more attractive than he let on, is now a knight and he’s home, for good. And he wants to see you. Question is, are you brave enough to face him?

After a week and three fittings, you finally have your new dresses. You stare at your bed, now covered in extravagant linen and lace. Before you had no options, now you have too many. The party today will be the first time you get to wear a proper fitting dress this season. Holding up dress after dress, you examine yourself in the mirror. 

“Too formal… Too light… Too dark… Too… Yellow?”

“I thought you liked yellow?”

You drop the dress and jump, turning quickly to see Sera leaning in your doorway. You bend to pick up your dress and toss it on the bed. She makes her way into your room, around hat boxes and piles of shoes, to clear a space on your bed to sit. She sighs heavily as she sits, a hand protectively over her stomach. After successfully hiding her condition from Mama for most of the winter, she was relieved to finally huff and puff without caring who hears. 

“I do like yellow, I just… I don't know what to wear today. It’s a garden party, but not formal, but still… I don’t know…”

You flop down on the bed, dramatically covering your eyes with an arm. You hear Sera giggle and pat the bed beside you.

“This one.”

You sit up and look down at Sera’s suggestion. She had requested this pattern at the very first fitting and you had to admit, it’s stunning. A pale yellow base with a sheer overlay covered in white daisy appliques and sheer white sleeves that cover down to your elbows. 

“White lace mittens, your embroidered reticule and the white slippers with the little bow!”

You trail your fingers over the white daisies and smile. Sera loves to dress others up, but hates dressing up herself. You can see her dirty riding boots under the hem of her dress and know very well she won’t be changing them. You stand and hold the dress up, twirling around and smiling. When you face Sera, she’s sporting the biggest grin.

“Why are you so nervous about this party?”

Carefully slipping the dress over your head, you smooth the fabric out and sit beside Sera. She secures the buttons slowly, stopping to tap your shoulder. You sigh and stare at your hands.

“It’s rather sudden, wouldn’t you say? Parties and balls are usually scheduled weeks before the debutante presentation. I’m surprised Mama is so… resolute… about our attendance.” “You do not wish to attend Sir Caleb’s party?”

You shake your head.

“No! No… I- I just… I find it strange.” 

Sera hums and pats your back. You stand and start searching for your lace mittens. While you enjoy the silence, your mind races with questions you wish you could ask. You finally groan loudly and turn to face Sera.

“How did you know you were in love?”

Sera gasps and then starts to laugh.

“Theo… is there something you’d like to tell me?”

“No! Sera… please… I… I just need…”

She places her hands over yours and squeezes them. 

“I’m sorry for my teasing. I- It was just unexpected, is all.” 

She motions for you to follow her to the bed. You sit beside her and she sweeps your hair over your shoulder, gently twirling your curls. 

“I was not sure right away. When I first met Sylus I wanted to slap him, sometimes I still do! I expected him to find me improper and avoid my company, like most gentlemen used to do. And yet, he’d seek me out. Treat me as an equal, not property to acquire.”

You look over your shoulder to see her eyes glisten with tears.

“I knew I loved him when he smiled after I told him I hated him. I was not afraid to speak, to disagree, to challenge him - I felt entirely safe and cherished. For just being myself. I could be as impolite as I pleased, and he would still love me.”

You pull her into a hug and listen to her quietly sob for a few moments. She sits back and clears her throat.

“God, I cry all the time now… Now will you tell me why you are asking?”

You shake your head with a sneaky smile and jump up before she can grab you. She doesn’t pressure you to tell her, but she does promise to keep a close eye on you. She leaves you to finish getting ready and shuts your door. You sit at your desk and pull out a new bundle of letters, opening each and laying them out in front of you. You’d written to Caleb as soon as you returned home from his knighting ceremony. Since then, his correspondence has been growing more frequent. 

Theo. I’m sure you’ve heard, I was honored by the Queen, can you believe I’m a knight? Sir Caleb, sounds pompous, does it not? I will be helping my former superiors “teach” new officers - they wish to use me as an example of what not to do, I am almost certain. Have you considered what I requested? Please, I wish to speak to you. To see the smile you’re wearing knowing I’m home, and alive. Caleb

You never should have written about how happy it had made you to receive his letter. While it is true that you have not stopped smiling since his return, you’ve also not stopped fidgeting. Would he regret meeting you? Once he knows what you look like or how awkward and shy you can be?

Theo, I do not wish to rely on my title, I intend to open the orchard this autumn. I remember you used to wish for the Allhallowtide Festival to be held in an orchard. With apple cakes, apple tarts, apple preserves on scones, apple tea, apple custard. I may have mentioned the idea to the Queen the other day and she is beside herself. She wishes to hold a ball in my orchard next spring. I will not force you to meet me, if you only wish to write to me I will be content. However, I will not hide my desire for you to reconsider. Caleb

The Allhallowtide Festival in his family orchard sounds heavenly. Crisp autumn air, sweet apples, warm scones and tea. You would never consider missing such an affair. You know Caleb, possibly better than you know yourself, you know he will never stop asking to meet. Should you just get it over with?

Theo, I must know, are you afraid to meet me? Have I done something? I will make it right, tell me what I must do. I do hope you consider attending the garden party I am hosting today. It’s rather sudden, but I cannot stand the silence. You know better than most how I thrive in chaos. If you do not wish to meet, I will avoid your family if I must. Please attend, if only to see the apple blossoms and Pip. Caleb

It was the first time you had the chance to read the letter you received this morning. Your eyes burned, he thought he’d done something to hurt you. All because you’re afraid he will be disappointed. Maybe you can speak to him today and see what he thinks about “Theo” - you were surprisingly good at reading expressions. 

You return the letters to their envelopes and stow them away. You stand and put on your mittens, loop your reticule around your wrist and slip on your slippers. Pinching your cheeks lightly as you pass the mirror you rush to join your mother and sisters. Today you’ll be anyone but Theodora Raeton.

Arriving at Caleb’s estate you’re instantly shaken by its size, you couldn’t even see the orchard yet. The gardens in front of the manor were well maintained and extensive. A large lake sat along the right side, a small island with a gazebo sat at its center. As soon as you rounded the house, the entire back garden came into view. Ladies sat at round tables sipping tea and fanning themselves. Men stood in small groups in the open field. You spot several of them holding pall mall mallets. 

Sylus and Sera charge ahead to find a table in the shade and Rafayel and Cora take off for the lake for a stroll. Your mother clings to you as you follow Sylus and Sera. Once everyone is seated and comfortably drinking tea, you stand.

“I’m going to go for a walk. And yes, Mama, I will be careful, don’t worry.”

Your mother nods and continues to sip her tea. Sera gives you a knowing look, but remains silent. You walk past several tables, politely waving and greeting family acquaintances. You pass the dessert station and quickly grab a slice of apple cake, how Caleb got so many fresh apples out of season you’ll never know. 

Passing a group of men playing a lively game of pall mall, you spot the entrance to the orchard. You climb a small hill and look past the line of hedges. The apple blossoms are gorgeous, a sea of pastel pink stretching as far as you can see. You can only imagine what it looks like in autumn, trees full of apples, the grass dry and covered in leaves and fallen fruit. 

A shrill laugh draws your attention back to the entrance, you see Caleb - looking dashing as ever - speaking to a young lady. You immediately recognize her, Miss Dahlia Atwood. Tall, thin, perfectly average bosom and hips. Her chestnut brown hair meticulously curled and pinned back to show off her dainty lips and rosy cheeks. Her dress matches Caleb’s eyes, no doubt chosen deliberately.

She bats her lashes and smiles sweetly and your heart aches with every passing moment. You try to quietly stroll over to a bench further away, but almost shout when you hear a loud yip. You look down and see a shaggy hunter spaniel, their shiny white fur with dark brown spots. Their tongue lolls out of their mouth and their tail wags furiously. They look up at you expectantly and your lip trembles, Pip. 

You bend and extend your hand cautiously. Pip sniffs your palm and gives it a lick. You giggle and scratch behind her ears, you remember Caleb said she likes that best. 

“She likes you.”

You launch yourself upright, nearly falling backwards. Caleb stands a few feet away, his hands behind his back. You look over his shoulder and see Dahlia glare at you - as if you personally asked Caleb to stop talking to her. You turn your attention back to Pip and chuckle. 

“You think so?”

Caleb nods. You bend and continue petting her, her tail wagging so fast her whole body is swaying. 

“Is your sister still feeling poorly?”

You bite your lip, you forgot you wrote to him about “Theo” feeling ill. You stand up and step past Pip, slowly making your way to the bench. You sit and place your plate on your lap. 

“Yes, she… she is. Very poorly.” 

“And how are you today, Miss Raeton?”

You look up at him with wide eyes.

“Me?”

He chuckles before gesturing to the bench, his smile faltering slightly as he clenches his fist. He’d used his right arm, you still didn’t know the extent of his injuries, he wouldn’t write about it. You move over so he can sit down.

“Does it hurt?”

“Only when it rains. Or when I overexert myself.”

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t pry.”

“No, you’re not trying to avoid the matter like everyone else.”

“... Miss Atwood looked very pleased to see you. I did not intend to disrupt your conversation.”

Caleb laughs.

“You and Pip saved me from the most disagreeable –” He closes his eyes and clears his throat. “Apologies, I am far too comfortable speaking bluntly. A consequence of the better part of 4 years surrounded by rowdy officers.”

You smile and bow your head. 

“What I mean to say is I am grateful, I did not particularly wish to speak to her in that manner.” 

“Oh… I would have thought you would be pleased to find such a… a… lady for you… for such a house.”

He watches you, his smile soft as his eyes burn through you.

“I informed her I am already pursuing another.”

You chose the wrong time to take a bite of your apple cake. You cough until you are red in the face. Caleb disappears to fetch you some tea and you’re left on the bench desperate to run all the way home. When he returns you sip the tea slowly, soothing your sore throat. 

“Th-thank you. I was just - ahem - I was just surprised is all. I did not realize you were courting a young lady already.”

“She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. And… as I am already sharing my secrets with you, I intend to propose, when she’s ready.”

The tea cup clatters as you set it back on the saucer. You hold your breath to suppress the tears, but cannot stop yourself from gasping. You set the saucer on the bench and stand up. Caleb looks up at you, his brows raised.

“I am truly happy to hear that Sir Caleb, happy indeed. I must… I must go, please excuse me.”

You rush past him and into the orchard, nearly sprinting as soon as you think you’re out of sight. Your lungs burn as you run through the lush grass, apple blossom petals fluttering down around you. 

The trail you’ve been following splits off and you follow a new direction up a hill. Your hands shake as you come to a stop in front of a giant oak tree. An old swing hangs from one of its branches. Caleb wrote about this swing and how he would run here when his father was angry with him. He called it his “safe place” - the bark of the tree was whittled away, letters carved to claim this place as his own. You reach out and hold the rope, taking deep breaths to calm yourself. 

Are you surprised? Did you think he was interested in you just from your silly letters? That’s why he wanted to talk to you face-to-face, he wanted to tell you about his impending nuptials. You’d only ever be his friend, nothing more. You knew this, so why can’t you stop crying? Why does it hurt so badly?

“Theodora!”

You spin around and see Caleb climbing the hill towards you. His face is flushed as he rushes to stand before you. 

“Theo…”

Caleb extends his hand, gently lifting your chin to adjust your gaze. He doesn’t let go, his thumb gliding over your jaw to hold you in place.

“Y-you k-knew? Th-this whole t-time?”

He nods.

“How?”

“I was your secret. You told me that. You said you’ve never told a soul about our letters. I considered you may have a sister you trust, maybe you told them. But I knew better. I know you.”

“I – I don’t…”

“Your eyes. You wrote about how much you hated the color. And I told you, I bet your eyes are the perfect shade of brown. That they’ll sparkle in the sun. Flecks of gold, more lovely than any jewel. I was right…”

He lets go of your chin to rest his palm against your cheek. You wrap a hand around his wrist and he gasps softly.

“I – I didn’t mean to lie. I thought… I thought you’d…”

“Be disappointed? I meant what I said, you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. You’re the only reason I fought so damn hard to get home. I wasn’t going to die without seeing you.”

He closes the distance and tries to lift his right arm to circle around you. When you see his struggle, you tuck your arm under his lifting it enough for him to rest his palm against  your hip. His eyes close as he leans down to rest his forehead against yours. His other hand sliding down to hold the side of your neck. 

“Without holding you.”

You lean into his touch, his hand warm and tender. 

“And yes, I meant it when I said I intend to propose. When you’re ready, I want you to be my wife.”

“Yes.”

He leans back, opening his eyes to meet yours.

“What?”

“Yes, I’ll marry you.”

🐝❀🍎 AN #2: I tried my best to be historically accurate, some modern terms are just way easier to use for a smoother reading experience. Used THIS as reference for knighting ceremony - changed it to be less official & more LADs casual style. All photos taken from Pinterest. *Changed the letters from Caleb to normal font cause it is hard to see on mobile!

(If you DO NOT want to be tagged in ALL REGENCY AU fics, just leave a comment. Keep in mind, each story hints at the futures for each pair sooooo...) 𝕿𝖆𝖌𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙: @trishiepo0 @not-so-quite-human @kitsunetori @babyx91 @libriomancer @lilyadora @crowskitten22 @letharue @silverbrain @alastor-simp @drama-trauma @0tterteeth @mysticcollectionvoid @godzillaglitter @godoffuckedupcats @m00nchildwrites @plsdonttakemyname @hauntedbysmut @withering-dream @lostwingz2236 @simpfortheseven @freddy-2002-blog @kiude @tati-the-fangirl @mtcozylove @3fingersofscotch @stxrrielle @angelicspaceprince @hebreeee @beykyuns @sylusgirlie7 @goblynn @freddy-2002-blog

[minty364]

DPXDC Prompt #88

Danny and Damian are twins but they get separated at age 7, years later when they’re both 14 they both are going to high school and their schools decide to create a program where they wind up as pen pals to each other unknowing that they’re talking too each other as it’s been set up to be anonymous. Danny decides to take a leap of faith and encrypts a message about the media blackout around his town and how they’re overrun with ghosts and could use the Justice Leagues help through out all of his letters knowing that very few could actually understand it but he just felt so tired and this was the only way he could think to get any help for his town.

Damian just wonders who exactly his pen pal is to encrypt these letters like this.

[hairmetal666]

Eddie walks through Washington Square Park on his way to work, basking at the chill in the air even though it’s only early September. Soon the leaves will turn yellow and orange and red, littering the sidewalks and grass with color. The air will cool in earnest, and he can bring out his favorite flannels as all the NYU students pull on their beanies and puffy coats and polar fleece.

In his most private thoughts, Eddie believes that New York City is at its most warm and welcoming in the fall; that the scent of coffee and roasted apples and cinnamon lingers in the air, that the yellow lights of warm apartments and the slow creep of fake spiderwebs and carved pumpkins calm the hearts and minds of scared tourists and jaded New Yorkers alike.

Eddie has this thing about fall in the city, right, but if you were to ask him his feelings about leaf peeping, or what-the-fuck-ever, he’d laugh in your face. Not that anyone ever asked him. He wasn’t the sort of man that gave the impression he cared about seasons. Honestly, his closest friends would probably express doubt Eddie even knew what the seasons were. 

He stops at a coffee shop, picking up drinks and pastries, before walking the remaining few blocks to his store.

He unlocks the security awning and the door, and as he pushes it wide, he takes the same deep breath he’s taken since the moment he stepped inside five years ago, inhaling the scent of paper, ink, dust, and patchouli, letting it fill his lungs and level him out.

God, he loves this place. He doesn’t know shit about books or running a business, but this place is his place, even before he owned it. He loves the built-in hardwood shelves, the polished floors, the crown moldings, the soft blue paint of the walls; the too-fancy crystal light fixtures; the solid wood chunk of the front counter, barely big enough for two people to stand behind; the way the smaller store front opens into a wide, inviting space; the swinging half-door into the tiny office that’s cluttered on a good day and a beloved disaster zone normally.

It doesn’t make a lot of sense, in the chronology of his life and interests, that he’d find himself owning a queer, new age bookstore in New York City at the ripe old age of twenty-five, but here he is. Making it work. Mostly.

Full fic live now on ao3!

[transingthoseformers]

Ratchet in his free time skimming a like, medics forum that talks about specific cases they had to deal with anonymously. Everyone who's used it in the past is certainly dead, but you know, it's fun to read.

One day he just needs to yell into the void about the kind of nonsense he just dealt with and posts a case that he expects to just take up space on dead air.

"Patient drank what they thought was solvent (for whatever reason) and was in fact just regular water. Water infected with an organic contaminant that over the course of 4 months coated the entire inside of their chest with PINK MOLD"

He gets 1 comment: Lmao

Turns out Decepticon medics like to lurk as well

Crying because I have a decent idea which types of characters would do that

4 months???? 4 whole months?? Damn.

[aziraphales-library]

Hi! Thank you so much for all the work you put into this archive. I've spent so many hours reading fics lately and enjoying every second thanks to you all!

I wonder if you have any recs for human!au fics where Crowley and Azi meet either online, as penpals or some other way that's anonymous, but maybe they don't know each other in real life or they don't know the other is their online friend/penpal. I really like the build-up towards meeting each other and things like that! I hope it's not too confusing. Any suggestions with those themes would be wonderful ❤️

We have loads of fics along these lines on our #social media tag, a specific pen pals post here, and you'll find similar kinds of fics our our #mistaken identity tag. I've got a bunch now, but I'm sure these'll all be on the tags mentioned, because there are only so many (unfortunately; I too love this trope!)...

Texts from an Unknown Number by GaryOldman (T)

The human wrong number AU I have been craving. Trapped at a boring Halloween party, Aziraphale tries to get in touch with Gabriel but his text ends up in the wrong place.

Press L in the Chat (for Love) by Phoenix_Soar (E)

Bickering fan-content creators Aziraphale and Crowley only have three things in common — they are both avid fans of a new revolutionary TV series about pirates, they are popular for their fantastic fanfiction and fanart… and they are members of the same discord server. Neither of them likes the other, but across the chaotic virtual world of a discord chatroom, who knows what can happen when these two unlikely fans are paired up for an exciting collaboration? Us. We know ;) Discord Server AU — a collaboration between Phoenix_Soar (fic) and Djapchan (multivoice podfic organization & editing) for Pod-Together 2022

A Tricky Situation (Entirely of his own making) by sixbynine (E)

"Crowley stood up and went to leave, he turned back just as he opened the door and took a deep breath. “You know I was quite excited to come here and work with you. I enjoyed reading your work. I disagree with a lot of it, but your writing style is lovely and every so often you’d let that privileged rich white boy mask drop and it was fantastic. I was hoping to meet that Professor Fell, but I’m beginning to think maybe he doesn’t exist and I’m going to be stuck with a rude stuck up arsehole for the next five years.” He slammed the door behind him before Aziraphale could respond. Aziraphale gaped, open mouthed, at the shut door." -- Aziraphale is teaching at Kings College London. He's been teaching at King College London for a long time now thank you very much and he does not take kindly to new Professors being sprung on him suddenly. Especially when this one has quite publically made his opinon of Aziraphale's work known. Luckily Aziraphale has an understanding penpal...

Readings From the Books of Ashtoreth by Quefish (E)

Vicar Aziraphale Bookman has a comfortable life. He lives in and serves the small village community of Tadfield. He enjoys contributing to local businesses, taking walks, and of course reading. His 'guilty pleasure', which gives him no guilt and all pleasure, is a series of novels by one AJ Ashtoreth. But what happens when he reaches out with an innocent bit of fanmail?

The Anon Before Christmas by foolishlovers (E)

When Crowley’s friend, blogging buddy and business partner Anathema announces her annual Secret Santa Exchange on Tumblr, she is very adamant Crowley should join this year. The old-fashioned (but admittedly compassionate) man he gets assigned to send anonymous messages to every day until Christmas sounds awfully similar to the fussy bookseller that his friends adore, yet Crowley tries to avoid at all costs. But surely his friends would have mentioned if Aziraphale had taken an interest in the Bad Omens fandom as well… right? Or: An Enemies to Lovers Secret Santa Tumblr AU.

I Knew I Loved You by AppleSeeds (E)

In September 1999, when his family gets connected to the internet, prospective Marine Biology student Crowley discovers an online forum where he can actually talk to people who share his passion for saving the whales. He begins corresponding with a kind stranger he knows only as Ocean_Angel, and is incredibly excited when the opportunity arises to meet this mysterious person in real life. As their friendship develops, Crowley shares things with Angel that he can't talk about with anyone else, and Angel's insights help him to explore and embrace his own identity. As Crowley works towards finding a place in this world where he feels like he really belongs, he realises that a big part of the answer to that question might actually be right in front of him. What if where he belongs is with Angel?

Big Name Feelings by ghostrat (E)

FANDOM AU! • Crowley is a BNF fic writer, and Aziraphale is a lurking artist who might be just a little parasocially in love with him. How they ever became friends is beyond him, but here they are: One month out from Prophet Con, and Crowley is asking him to be his boyfriend. Just for the weekend, of course.

- Mod D

[chiakery]

I really needed only 1 person to say yes, but 2??? Holy shit I'm hyped. Here's the first chapter! The second one will probably be posted tomorrow and we'll see how it goes after that

https://archiveofourown.org/works/64462825/chapters/165524950

Fic idea: Jester and Beau become friends and exchange letters way before their first meeting.

Little Jester, bored and lonely in the golden cage that is Lavish Chateau, writing a letter and slipping it into a crate that's going to be sent to some far away place.

Half a continent away: young Beau, recently taken by Cobalt Soul, angry and trying to break every rule. She's trying to steal something, because maybe then they'll send her back. Or maybe she will be able to exchange these goods for gold and get the fuck away from this shithole, start a new life somewhere else. Instead, she finds a letter written on pink paper and signed with a heart made of glue and glitter.

Zeenoth catches Beau but doesn't send her away. There's only more training and studying and punishment. He takes Jester's letter and destroys it but Beau remembers. And one day, when someone helping with the Archive's post owes her, she sends a response.

It's short. Brash. Written on normal paper with the dullest, black ink.

When Jester gets it, it becomes her greatest treasure.

Jester writes back (she has the address now), Beau steals the mail before anyone else sees it. They start to talk.

It's not ideal. Weeks pass between letters because of distance. Their worlds couldn't be any more different. They couldn't be any more different.

And yet, Jester's letters are what helps Beau keep going. She hides her favourites in a secret compartment under her bed, rereading them when everything feels like too much. These letters are one of few reasons why she still smiles. They remind her that somewhere out there there's open sea and pastries and nice people.

And Jester is overjoyed to have a real friend. Someone outside Chateau, someone clever and funny and with really good prank ideas. Someone who somehow can curse better than the sailors Jester sometimes eavesdrops on.

(She tells Bluud some of Beau's curses. Never before has she seen a minotaur blush.)

Time passes and they talk about everything. Well, almost everything.

Until one day Beau gets a letter saying that Jester has to leave Nicodranas and Jester doesn't know when she'll be able to write again or where she's going to go but don't worry because the Traveller will for sure help and everything will be fine and...

That day, Beauregard runs away from Cobalt Soul.

[caffeinated-coffee-bean]

Crossover fanfic idea:

Alfred joins a dating app due to Jason, Dick, and Tim’s insistence that he needs to have someone his age to talk to. When Alfred joins he’s not really interested, but under the watchful eyes of his grandbats he swipes for a bit. Before he can swipe again he gets a match notification and the grandbats cheer, encouraging him to message them. So Alfred sends a message to the other person explaining how he was being peer pressured into joining. The other person sends back a laughing emoji and types that their nephew was doing the same thing to them. Charmed, Alfred begins to converse with the other person daily, moving over to text and deleting the original app. After a stretch of time they decide to meet up in person. Alfred tells the family he is taking a weekend off to see his friend and each of the bats are surprised, but insistent he takes a break to relax himself. Bruce reminds him to take the superior bank card so Alfred has access to all the money he needs or wants while out of town. The morning Alfred is set to leave all the bats have appeared at the entrance to hug the older man and wish him luck before he heads out the door. Once in New York City, Alfred finds his hotel before going to find his meet up spot. He arrives early, but as he walks in he sees his pen pal was already there at a table. Alfred made his way over and introduces himself before sitting across from her. After they order drinks Alfred’s penpal’s phone rings and they answer it. His penpal asks if their nephew can stop by to pick up his glasses he left at home this morning because his office is a block away and Alfred says of course. So as they wait for their food, the two of them talk about their kids they have raised as their own. Both of their wards’ parents had died before their time in violent ways and when the wards were extremely young. Just then the establishment’s door swung open and a frazzled college aged brunette entered. He scanned the room and visibly relaxed at spotting Alfred’s penpal. The young man made his way over stammered an apology and thanked his aunt for grabbing his glasses. Alfred had a feeling that he had seen this young man before, but brushed it aside as the city was large and overcrowded. Alfred’s penpal turned back to him when the young man left and apologized for her nephew Peter being a bit forgetful. Alfred smiled and explained to May that he understood. When they were headed out of the establishment, Alfred had offered his arm to May who blushed at being treated like a lady from old films, a big crack and crashing filled the air. Looking upwards there was a rhino looking person held in the air by spiderwebs. May squeezed Alfred’s arm and under her breath breathed Peter. Alfred understood in an instant. When the cops appeared to wrestle away the rhino man, May tried to make an excuse to leave to check on Peter, but Alfred whispered in her ear that he knew and understood that she needed to make sure he was okay. May was a bit startled before looking at his face. May stated, “You are part of the life” to which Alfred nodded. Alfred joked, “You only have one, I have an entire flock” and let May go as they reached her bus stop. May and Alfred parted ways for the day with smiles and waves. Over the next few months the two would call each other and mention how their worrisome wards escaped death this week. Eventually Alfred convinced May and Peter to stay at the manor for a weekend. As soon as they arrived Peter was kidnapped by the batkids and May pinched Bruce’s cheeks. That night Gotham was shocked that the entire bats ensemble was out and had Spiderman with them. Did the bats kidnap Spiderman? The Gotham News got so riled up that Metropolis across the Bay decided to send reporters to investigate. Lucky they did because then Superman was shaking hands with Spiderman and the bats. Meanwhile back at the BatCave Alfred and May were having tea, enjoying the friend they found who understands them.