#sam's writing tag

[its-xiu-ya-time]

> - ——>> <3 ~

hi! so i haven't really shared this fic on tumblr yet, so it's already got three chapters... but the third chapter is new!! just posted!

this is a qijiu soulmate AU where soulmates can read each other's thoughts. this idea was given to me by a very lovely friend, so shoutout to ventrixx!!! this exists because of you!!

that's all! i hope you enjoy reading! <3

info + tags + summary and such below the cut!

Rating: Explicit

Archive Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage

Category: M/M

Fandom: 人渣反派自救系统 - 墨香铜臭 | The Scum Villain's Self-Saving System - Mòxiāng Tóngxiù

Relationship: Shěn Jiǔ | Original Shěn Qīngqiū/Yuè Qīngyuán

Characters: Yuè Qīngyuán, Shěn Jiǔ | Original Shěn Qīngqiū

Additional Tags: POV Yuè Qīngyuán, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Telepathy, Fix-It of Sorts, Child Abuse, Miscommunication, Emetophobia, Fluff and Angst, Gore

Summary:

Shen Jiu and Yue Qi have known they were soulmates from the very start. They've always been together. It’s Yue Qi who teaches Shen Jiu how to count, the characters, and how to get by. Yue Qi takes care of Shen Jiu and Shen Jiu takes care of Yue Qi.

Their bond has helped them on the streets. They’re always in sync, no matter what happens; this is why they can survive. They understand each other better than anyone else ever can, and they take pride in that.

When Shen Jiu is wailing crocodile tears for money, he talks to Yue Qi without much thought. Yue Qi found a disdain for that kind of trickery, and now he hangs around the borders of their territory instead, keeping watch.

When Shen Jiu gets bought by Qiu Jianluo, things change.

Yue Qi finds out that there are plenty of sect recruitments happening about, and starts thinking of leaving.

***

Shen Jiu and Yue Qi learn how to navigate life while being able to hear each other's thoughts.

[clarionglass]

here we go :) part one of three, updates to be released weekly!

---

sam says 4 (game master cinematic universe, part 3)

Ruby was at her mum's for a family dinner she couldn't miss on pain of death, apparently, and the Doctor was many things, but a family dinner kind of guy wasn't one of them—particularly when Carla had already slapped him once in the short time he'd known her. He thought he'd broken his streak of bad luck with mums, but… well, seemingly not. So he was companionless for a few hours, and while he could wait for her to get back, maybe catch up on his reading—what was the point of waiting when you had a time machine? 

He ran his hands over the TARDIS console, marvelling at her clean lines and metallic flourishes, the way that even now she felt brand new but familiar, and paused. He’d just pop off for a quick adventure, nothing too dangerous, but—where to go?

He could scan for a distress call nearby, and pitch in to help. He could drop in on Donna and Shaun and Rose, beautiful Rose, and see how they were all doing. Or he could just hit the randomiser button, and jump in feet first wherever he ended up.

He remembered a conversation from a long time ago, when he wore a different face, and his gorgeous TARDIS wore a face too, for the first and only time.

“You didn't always take me where I wanted to go.”

“No, but I always took you where you needed to go.”

He grinned. Who could resist an offer like that? He pressed the button and whooped as the time rotor spun into action, ready to see where the universe would take him.

---

Apparently, he was needed pretty close to where he already was. Earth, 2024. Huh. Same planet, same time—within a few months of where he’d left Ruby, even. The main thing that had changed was the location: he was now in the good old US of A. California, to be more specific, and Los Angeles to be more specific still. And to really narrow it down, the Doctor discovered as he poked his head out of the TARDIS doors, he was in… a broom closet. Not bad, as a parking spot—a bit squeezy, but out of the way. And as he poked his head out of that door, he could finally see he was in the backstage corridors of a studio of some kind. Film or TV, if he was to hazard a guess, it was a different vibe from Abbey Road.

With a shrug, he decided to go exploring.

It couldn’t have been more than a minute before a young woman wearing the full-black outfit, headset, and permanently stressed expression of a production assistant came running up to him.

“Are you the fill-in Sam organised?” she asked breathlessly, and honestly, seeing the look on her face, the Doctor didn’t have the heart(s) to tell her no. And really, what was the Doctor, if not a professional fill-in? This, this was why he had a randomiser button on the control panel, because whatever he was about to get himself into was going to be fun.

“Sure!”

“Oh, thank god,” sighed the production assistant, relief dawning across her face. “When Ally tested positive this morning, I thought we were sunk for the record, because we called around and we couldn’t get a hold of anyone. But then Sam said he could get someone in, and, you know, here you are, and just in time, so—ah, yeah, if you could follow me this way?”

Smiling all the way, the Doctor followed his guide through to hair and makeup, looking around as they went. The studio seemed to belong to a company called Dropout, according to the branding scattered around, and things seemed, at least on the surface, to be… well. Fine. He couldn't tell why he'd been brought here yet, which meant that when he found the reason, it was going to be particularly tangled. He couldn't wait! 

And then he looked back at his guide, still engulfed in a miasma of anxiety, and realised he'd been too busy looking for clues to notice the person right in front of him. 

“Hey, it's cool, you've found me,” he started with a gentle smile. “You can relax. Hi, I'm the Doctor. What's your name?”

“Oh!” she said, startled. “The Doctor, yeah, of course. Um, hi, I'm Kaylin. Look, sorry, it's just that I've been so busy this morning, I'm so distracted… Shit, and I would've completely forgotten to get your details too. There's paperwork to fill in, but you can do that later. Um, just for now, though, can I get your pronouns?”

The Doctor thought for a moment. “He/him, for now.”

Kaylin nodded, making a note on her phone. “Okay, cool! And do you have any socials?”

“Not me, babes,” he replied. “I'm hardly sitting down long enough to be able to update, you know?”

“On a day like this, I know exactly what you mean,” she said. “That's okay, Lou didn't have socials either for the longest time. Right, so if you go through there, the team will get you sorted, and once you're done, someone will take you up to the greenroom. All good?”

“All great,” the Doctor replied. Kaylin flashed him a quick, relieved smile, then hurried off.

Hair and makeup was a fairly quick process, the sound mixer fitted him with a microphone, and before too long, Kaylin was back to take him upstairs. 

“This is the greenroom,” she said, pushing the door open. “The rest of the cast for the episode are already here—they’re great guys, and they’ve both been on the show a lot, so they’ll be able to help if you’ve got questions. And if you need anything else, just come find me or any of the other PAs, okay?”

The Doctor nodded, beamed at Kaylin, and walked in.

---

The greenroom was small but comfortable, and its occupants, two men around the same age as the Doctor appeared, looked up as he entered.

“Oh, you’re new,” the taller of the pair said, clearly giving him the once-over.

The other sighed with a mixture of fondness and exasperation, just as clearly used to his friend’s antics.

“Hey, I’m Brennan,” he said, levering himself up to standing from his perch on a chair arm, and holding out a hand. “That’s Grant.”

The Doctor took it warmly. “The Doctor. Just passing through, and happy to help.”

Grant’s eyebrows quirked. “Doctor… something?” he prompted.

“Or is it just ‘the Doctor’?” Brennan asked.

“Just ‘the Doctor’,” the Time Lord confirmed cheerfully. “You’ll get used to it, everyone does.”

Grant didn’t look convinced, but—

“Copy that,” Brennan shrugged, and settled back on the arm of the chair, returning his gaze to the door.

Grant, in turn, looked at the Doctor and rolled his eyes in a clear expression of ‘no, I don’t know why he’s like this, either’.

“Okay,” the Doctor said after a moment of watching the watching. “I wasn’t going to ask, but now I think I have to. What’s up with the door?”

Brennan huffed a laugh. “Well, the last time there was one of those up—” he pointed to the Out of Order sign stuck to the bathroom door, “—we got locked in here for the game.”

“He’s paranoid,” Grant interjected.

“Well, yeah, maybe,” Brennan retorted. “Or just cautious. Because Sam’s been acting weird lately, and we’re coming up to the last few records of the season, so he’s probably planning something way out of the box for the finale. And the original cast was you, me and Beardsley, so…”

He shrugged one shoulder meaningfully, and Grant nodded, conceding both the point and the potential for chaos.

“So if Sam comes in to give us the briefing, rather than waiting til we’re on set,” Brennan continued, “or there’s anything else weird going on, I’m gonna know about it right from the beginning.”

He turned to the Doctor. “The only reason I'm not quizzing you is because I know for a fact Beardsley was genuinely scheduled for this, so you can't be a plant by the production team. No offence.”

“None taken,” the Doctor smiled. “That sort of thing happen often, does it?”

Grant and Brennan exchanged a look. 

“More than you'd think,” Grant answered with a grimace. 

“Alright,” the Doctor said slowly, then brightened. “So what is it we're actually doing?”

Grant gave him a disbelieving glance. “You don't know—?”

“Very last minute fill-in,” the Doctor said breezily. “But don't worry, I'm a quick study.”

“Well, you're not that much worse off than the rest of us,” Brennan said encouragingly. “You know about Game Changer, obviously, if you know Sam, and we only find out the rules of the game once we get on set. Hopefully,” he added, with a dark look back at the Out of Order sign. 

The Doctor nodded. No, he didn't know Sam, and he didn't know Game Changer, but he could work out the situation from context clues. This was a game show. And with the Toymaker banished, and Satellite Five not coming into existence for another 198000 years, give or take, he found himself smiling. Maybe third time would be the charm. 

“Mmm, hopefully they aren't going to throw you in the deep end,” Grant said. “Because Brennan might seem lovely now, but as soon as we get out there, he's a whore for points. He'll stab you in the back and won't even blink.”

Brennan barked with laughter. “Yeah, and you wouldn't?”

“Excuse you, I'm always a goddamn delight,” Grant replied, the very picture of injured dignity. 

“Oh, absolutely!” agreed a new voice. The Doctor turned to the now-open door to see a bearded man in a pinstriped suit smiling broadly. “That's why we keep inviting you back!”

Grant bowed sarcastically. “Why, thank you, Sam. Good to know I'm appreciated by someone here.”

“Always,” Sam replied, gently but firmly ending that particular path of the conversation. He scanned the room, and his eyes lit up when they landed on the Doctor. 

“Ah, you must be the Doctor!” he said with obvious delight, walking over with his hand outstretched. “I'm Sam—thanks for filling in for us, you've made sure we're going to have a good show. Seriously, it's a pleasure to have you here.”

“Aw, cheers!” the Doctor smiled, shaking the offered hand. “Glad I could help out, I'm really looking forward to this!”

“Well, great!” Sam exclaimed, then took a step back, regarding all three players in turn. “Now, folks, I'm just letting you know that we're just about ready to start the record, so if you can start heading down, that'd be great.”

Grant and Brennan nodded—Brennan, the Doctor noticed, with relief. 

“See you down there,” Sam said, smiling. “Have a great show, and—”

His eyes caught on the Doctor's for a second, twinkling. 

“Good luck.”

---

Backstage, the Doctor, Brennan and Grant were marshalled into podium order and given a final briefing from the crew. And then, with a thumbs-up from Kaylin, that was it.

Showtime.

“Get ready for a Game Changer!” came Sam's voice from onstage. “Tonight’s guests: he can shoot off a monologue with laser accuracy; it’s Brennan Lee Mulligan!”

Brennan, his back to the camera as the curtains opened, spun on his heel and, with a stone-cold expression, pointed finger guns straight down the barrel, before letting the facade crack open. “Hi!” he exclaimed, and walked over to the leftmost podium.

“It’s his first appearance, but he’s already on fire; it’s the Doctor!”

The Doctor leant against the archway to the stage and flashed a broad smile towards the camera, then in a few skipping steps, had bounded over to the next free podium. What the hell, why not make an entrance?

“And even in the toughest of mazes, you’ll always be able to find him; it’s Grant O’Brien!”

Grant dipped his lanky frame into an approximation of a curtsey, spreading his arms wide, then sauntered over to the closest podium with a grin.

“And your host, me!” Sam announced, a ring of manic white showing around his irises as he beamed down the barrel of the camera. “I’ve been here the whole time!”

“This,” he continued, pushing his microphone shut and stowing it in his jacket pocket, “is Game Changer, the only game show where the game changes every show. I am your host, Sam Reich!” 

As he said his name, he looked at his hands, front and back, as if he was pleasantly surprised to be himself, then gestured towards the three podiums.

“I am joined today by these three lovely contestants! Now, you understand how the game works.”

“Of course not,” Grant started. “You know we don't.”

“We can't, Sam, that's the whole point of the theatre you've set up here,” Brennan said over him. 

“Not yet,” was all the Doctor said, anticipation starting to drum a tattoo of excitement against the inside of his ribcage. 

“That’s right!” Sam said brightly, shooting finger guns at the camera. “Our players have no idea what game it is they’re about to play. The only way to learn is by playing. The only way to win is by learning, and the only way to begin is by beginning! So without further ado, let’s begin by giving each of our players fifty points.”

The Doctor, biding his time, watched the reactions of his fellow contestants. Grant looked at the front of his podium, checking the point total, and nodding approvingly when he saw that yes, it was sitting at a round fifty. Brennan, on the other hand, was starting to frown.

“Players, Sam says: touch your nose,” Sam began, and Brennan sighed the sigh of someone who wasn’t happy to be proved right.

“Oh, no,” he groaned. “Oh, you son of a bitch. Wasn’t one this season enough?”

He touched his nose anyway, as did the others, and Sam smiled encouragingly. “Sam says: touch your ear.”

When they all did, Sam nodded. “Touch your other ear.”

Everybody held still, fingers on the ears they had originally touched.

Sam beamed. “Easy, players, right?”

“You say that now,” Brennan said darkly. “Which makes it worse, because all you're doing is setting us up for failure.”

Sam gasped, pretending offence. “Would I do that?”

“Yes,” Brennan and Grant replied in unison, which drew a grin from the Doctor and set Sam off chuckling.

“And I'm not having it,” Brennan continued, leaning his elbows against his podium and pointing at Sam with the hand not touching his ear. “You better watch yourself, because I know how this game works, and you're not going to get one over on me.”

“Strong words, Brennan!” Sam said, clearly delighted by this response. “Okay, then, let's start making things a bit more interesting!”

The game continued as per Sam Says usual, some rounds done as a group and some individual. Points were won, sure, but lost slightly more frequently, and even the Doctor found he was having to concentrate to avoid getting caught in the host's traps. 

It was fun. Genuinely, it was like playing a game with friends, and the Doctor felt himself leaning into it. There wasn't any sign of danger—maybe there wasn't a mystery to solve at all, and the TARDIS just decided he needed a total break. 

Well, probably not. But the way things were going, he was able to let himself hope. 

“Alright, players,” Sam said a good few rounds in, just as pleasantly as he would start any other question, and the screen behind him dinged as a new prompt popped up. “Survive the death beam.”

For a second, everything was frozen perfectly still. 

And then came the crash, the explosive noise of heavy machinery moving relentlessly through a drywall set.

The Doctor was already moving. “Everyone down!”

“Duck!” Brennan yelled at the same time.

The two of them hit the ground within milliseconds of each other, but Grant was still paralysed in the face of the giant, science-fiction type laser cannon that had just ploughed through the wall. 

It whined ominously, screaming its way to fever pitch. And then a sharp pain in Grant’s ankle made him stagger, pitching forwards onto the carpet behind the podiums as the Doctor rolled away to avoid getting pinned.

“Sorry, babes,” the Doctor whispered. “But it was either kick you to get you down, or—”

A hideous metallic screech ripped through the air, and all three of them could feel the crackle of ozone as a beam of energy swept across what had, moments ago, been neck height.

“…Or that,” the Doctor finished with a grimace.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Grant breathed, suddenly very conscious of every inch of his 6’9 frame. “Thanks.”

“Well done, players!” Sam exclaimed delightedly from above them. “But… sorry, I didn’t say ‘Sam says’, so that’s a point off for everyone.”

“What the fuck!” Brennan snapped.

“Are you actually insane?” Grant demanded at the same time, his voice overlapping with Brennan’s.

In response, Sam just wheezed with laughter. “You can come back to your podiums,” he said, cheerfully ignoring them.

Nobody moved.

“Very good!” he acknowledged, and even without seeing his face, the grin was obvious in his voice. “Okay, Sam says: come back to your podiums.”

Although the words were innocuous, and his tone was just as light and breezy as usual, there was nevertheless an edge hiding just underneath the surface. And while the death beam loomed large in the minds of all three players, it was impossible to consider disobedience as an option.

Slowly, they stood, returning to their places. Now they had the time to look at it properly, the death beam was even more sinister, and Brennan and Grant both kept flicking nervous glances its way, ready to move if it looked like it was charging up again.

The Doctor, however, was focused purely on the man standing in front of them. Unbothered, Sam met his gaze like a challenge, a mischievous smile playing about his lips.

“Oh, you’ll love this one,” he said, and the screen changed. “Sam says, starting with Grant: say my name.”

Grant frowned in confusion, but answered quickly nonetheless. “Sam Reich?”

The man himself shrugged tolerantly, moving on. “Brennan?”

Brennan just stared at him coolly. “Do you take me for a fool?”

“Well caught, Brennan!” Sam said happily. “Sam says: say my name.”

“Sam,” Brennan replied, suspicion clear in his voice. “Samuel Dalton Reich.”

He nodded, still with a hint of indifference. “And lastly, Doctor.” His smile broadened. “Sam says: say my name.”

It was easy. Too easy. And as the Doctor looked into the eyes of the man calling himself Sam Reich, he felt his hearts stutter in recognition, because something had changed. He wasn’t hiding himself anymore, and while the face was different yet again, the Doctor would know the shape of that soul anywhere. It was impossible. It was inevitable.

“You can’t be,” he breathed. 

Sam smirked, leaning in across his podium. “Oh, but Doctor… I’ve been here the whole time,” he stage-whispered with a wink.

“He said you lost,” the Doctor said, shaking his head, looking wrong-footed for the first time that Brennan and Grant could recall. “You lost, and he trapped you.”

The other two watched, uncomprehending, but Sam just smiled, drumming his fingers against the podium with an audible beat, fast but distinct. Four taps, four taps, four taps. “I’m waiting.”

The Doctor took a slow, deep breath. Set his jaw. 

“Master.”

---

missed an installment of the game master cinematic universe?

original idea by @ace-whovian-neuroscientist: x

art by @northernfireart concept: x scissor sisters sketch: x sam and his doppelganger: x

writing by me (!) part one (escape the greenroom): x part two (deja vu): x part three (sam says 4): you are here!

[lizardkingeliot]

the season 2 premiere is the gift to jammers that just keeps on giving

[eightcure]

Some Danny phantom sketches for the void

[lonelysheepling]

Recently read @queenofthequillandink ’s DPxDC crossover fic Unearthed, Reborn

I got inspired to draw character sheets for Danny, Sam, Jason, and Jazz’s vigilante personas. Here’s a link to the author’s drawings of their outfits (these were a vital reference for me when doing this so thank you so much for sharing them Quill) More commentary (like 7+ paragraphs plus 2 images) about this project and the designs below the “keep reading” line.

None of these thoughts I have for each character are in order, but I have a lot of commentary for these since this project was a lot more conceptual than my normal work. I also just like talking about my art/design process. If you ever find yourself wondering at some point why an element from the original design wasn’t included, the answer is that the removal was completely intentional and part of my grandmaster vision for this work and wasn’t because I just forgot about it entirely during the design process.

————————————————————————

Aconite (Sam)

This was the first one I sketched out, I wasn’t even sure at the time if I was going to fully commit to drawing all of them. I thought that Sam was gonna be the hardest since her description was way longer than the others, but then bird boy beat her out. I took a lot of creative liberties with her design, the bag was added bc I couldn’t figure out how to add pockets to the skirt. I was trying to avoid a joker color scheme so I had a lot of ref images that I got by searching like “purple green aesthetic” on Pinterest. The dark purple and dark forest/blueish green won out in the end. I desaturated a lot of my colors for her just to get as far away from the neon Gotham rogue aesthetic. I also added the bdsm harness over the armor to add more punk elements to her design, I know that in real life that would be very uncomfortable to wear over scalemail armor but sometimes we take creative liberties when they look sick as fuck. Also, I didn’t realize until I went to look for a reference for aconite flowers that aconite is wolfsbane! That was neat to learn! Also, the font I used for Aconite is called “zai Art School Calendar 1931”, I’ve used this a few times for other projects, it’s one of my favorite fonts. The ‘zai’ fonts the creator has are all very good.

Shade (Danny)

There wasn't much to add to this page. His outfit is pretty simple (besides the patterning). I wasn’t sure how to pull of an optical illusion pattern but I was reminded how I sometimes get an eyestrain induced headache when looking at someone wearing a patterned shirt with really thin stripes so I just leaned into the idea of a small/detailed hard lined pattern. I originally made 5 separate patterns for him and then turned them into stamp brushes in procreate. I only ended up using three of them, the one on the chest, the one on the legs, and the one on his hand. But, I imagine the patterns fade and shift when he moves, sort of like a lenticular print. I gave him constellation freckles and stylized the hair’s fade into white. The hair was inspired by how time-woods draws Martin Blackwood’s hair (linked: time-woods’s fanart of Martin Blackwood). Also put way too much effort into the teeth on the mask. I just like the chunky teeth design. Oh yeah and the font I used for him is called “Typewriter_Condensed_Demi”

Erinys (Jason)

Repeatedly ran into the issue of not having enough canvas space bc of my fervent need to thoroughly document and plan out how the wings worked. I also reversed the colors for the bodysuit & armor so the under layer was black while the armor plates were red. I only realized afterwards that I may have been inspired by the red centipedes in Rain World (linked: gif of the red centipede, don’t click the link if you’re unsettled/afraid of bugs/insects), artists subconsciously draw inspiration from other artists all the time though so I’m not like upset about it. I stand by it because it looks sick as hell. Also leaned into the magpie theming for the wings. I think the vigilante form was supposed to be reverse magpie coloring? I can’t remember, but I stuck with normal magpie coloring. The anatomy of how the wings connected to the collarbone was inspired by JayEaton’s Magpie Bridge Project. Reference image link. Link to the article the image is from. I didn’t draw the wing armor because I couldn’t figure out how to would work with the wing anatomy and I ran out of canvas space. Finally, the font used for him is “DIN Condensed” this is a default font, I would’ve used something more punk but I needed the text to be legible.

Insight (Jazz)

I did Jazz after I’d already finished the initial trio, so I had to switch to a new canvas for her bc I’d hit the layer limit multiple times on the previous one. I really do love doing that spiked under-eyelash thing with characters. Don’t know when that started. Anyway, I added the shoulder pads to her outfit to help break up the empty space. The golden eyes were a nice accent color since her design is very overwhelmingly green. Honestly the braid hairstyle and gold eyes really do obscure her identity, multiple times when drawing her I was worried that she didn’t really resemble Jazz enough. There wasn’t a drawing from the author for her so I only had the text description to go off of. I just realized that she sort of reminds me of a forest ranger and I don’t know what to do with that realization. I copy/pasted my drawing of her eyes when gold and recolored them to match her normal eye color. There were two layers for that, a hue shift and a hard light layer to emphasize the shadows.

Here’s what it looks like without the hue shift: 

It looks really cool and I’m 100% that color combo in another drawing down the line. Oh yeah and the font used for this sheet was “Euphemia UCAS”. It comes with Apple’s operating system, I use it as a neutral default text most of the time bc it’s nicer than helvetica but not overly fancy like Times New Roman—and why am I talking about fonts. ——————————————————————— Anyway, this project was very fun to work on. The alt text for this was its own endeavor, hope the folks using screen-readers don’t mind 4-5 paragraphs of description text. Also, I cannot remember for the life of me if Dani got a costume description, but if she does I’ll make sure to update this image set with a sheet for her. And to the author, QueenOfTheQuill, if you’re reading this message that I’ve left at the very bottom of this post below a read more line, thank you for the fic. It’s very good and I’m glad I caught it during my slow decent into DPxDC brainrot. I love the interactions between Jason and Tim, it’s nice seeing a revived Jason that’s not bogged down by pit rage. They definitely seem like they could’ve been good friends if not for the unfortunate circumstances that led them to meet in canon. Also, I’m sure Jazz will love interacting with Batman and Nightwing. So much psychological & childhood trauma to unpack with them. Feel free to use/share these images if you so desire and thanks again for your work.

[fukcnoplease]

Things always go wrong

Pt2 Pt3 Pt4 Pt5

Danny paced the halls of pariah dark’s castle, well his castle but even after a few years he wasn't used to that, as Frostbite watched in silence. His king isn't usually this restless before a council meeting but his distress was understandable. As his eighteenth birthday approached the council was getting more and more pushy for Danny to take up his role as king. Frostbite had used his leeway to allow the young king time to grow up and in the four years since his first transformation he had only been called to council a handful of times. It was an impressive feat less because they needed a king and more because the observers were anxious to keep the young king on a leash. 

This council meeting was called hastily as the anti-ecto laws had been passed recently and the GIW as well as the Fenton parents had become bolder in their pursuit of ghosts. The Fentons had almost captured one of Danny's rogues and it was too close of a call for the council to overlook. 

On top of that Dani was supposed to be coming home today. The young clone had taken to traveling the world as soon as she was free to. Her unstable nature had forced her home only a month after departing and it had taken months to convince Danny to let her go off alone again. Her destabilization had been easy to explain, as a clone she had been created without a ghost core and with continual use of her powers and no way to replenish her energy she had used her own body's ectoplasm to feed her powers. Frostbite was unsure if she would ever form her own core as her creation was unique but Danny had pushed. The idea Danny had come up with was to take a piece of his own core and give it to Dani, maybe jump-starting her own core cultivation in the process.

After defeating pariah dark Danny had begun absorbing his core, a way of proving his claim to the throne Frostbite had explained, and with it his own core had almost doubled in power. While unstable itself as it was still settling into its new power, it was possible to take a sliver and still keep the core at a healthy level. If Danny pushed for a bigger piece than strictly necessary, well no one but Frostbite would ever know that.

The council had rioted at another ghost having a piece of the king's core, it was usual for families to share cores in times of need but a king having a royal family was unheard of. Some of the council was against it all together and some were quick to try and coronate Dani a princess. Danny did his best to shield her from the council and made her promise to visit at least once every few months and call weekly. It had been a battle but Dani had accepted conditions as well as a phone Tucker had made for her. Then she was off, traveling the world and bringing back souvenirs and stories. 

A couple years had passed like that and they had finally settled into a comfortable rhythm. A rhythm rudely interrupted by Danny’s looming birthday and his parents lack of self control. He was supposed to be at Sam’s house, ready to hug Dani when she arrived and with a whole day of movie marathons and nachos planned. Instead he was stuck pacing his entrance hall as Sam kept him updated on the happenings in the living realm. 

“Your majesty,” Frostbite rumbled, “perhaps it is time you enter the council’s chamber. An intermission can only last so long.”

The monarch hummed but didnt stop pacing. Every turn caused his layered cape to billow behind him in a strange way, as if it was floating underwater rather than being manipulated by wind. The king's crown had dulled from a fiery bonfire into a thin misty glow that wrapped in a circle over his head. Jazz would tease him for it, ‘It looks like the aurora borealis, your love of the sky bleeds into everything doesn't it?’ and she was right, though he would never admit it. Even as he combed his hand through his hair and the crown, the misty fire dissipating around his hand before gathering again, it still twinkled as if far away stars were shining in the crowns light. 

Danny spared little thought to his regalia as he paced. A wave of dread had come over him midway through the arguing and he had called a pause so they could recollect themselves. He had tried to check in with Sam but she wasn't responding. He had heard nothing from Dani either and something deep within him was screaming something was wrong. He couldn't abandon a council meeting on a hunch and honestly it was one of the few times he didn't want to have to abandon the council meeting. If only because it would mean nothing was wrong.

Dani had had some close calls over the years and while she had really come into her powers she wasn't as strong as Danny and the one time she had been hit by Maddie Fenton still held fresh in Danny’s mind.

His phone buzzed.

Sam had replied.

Eco-Terrorist: We cant find Dani

It was the only message Danny needed before he was off. Ripping a hole in the dimension himself as he crossed back to his preferred plane. He barely noticed Frostbites thoughtful hum as he moved to bring the news of the king's departure to the council.

The precious seconds Danny took to arrive at Sam’s house were spent spiraling as to all the worst things that could have happened. The fear doubled as he stepped through Sam’s wall to find her holding Dani’s phone and pacing herself. Tucker sat at the desk scouring what looked like security cameras on his laptop as Danny popped back into view.

If Sam yelped it was only because she was too stressed to try and cover it up.

“We found her phone in Amity Park, she hadn't been responding and it had been almost an hour since she was supposed to show up.” Sam stressed, she was flexing her hands around the phone. 

“Since she usually messages us if she is going to be late we decided to check if everything was alright. When we saw she was in the park and hadnt move in a while. We left immediately.” Tucker added. He had a wobble to his voice and a shine to his eyes. Danny gritted his teeth. “All we found was this.” Sam said as she threw Dani’s phone on the bed as if it had personally been the thing to commit the crime and went back to pacing, flexing her hands in and out of fists.

“Do we have any security footage that might help?” Danny asked. 

“Ive been looking but the park doesnt have much cctv except around the perimeter or playground. Its been useless. All Ive seen is the Fenton-mobile.” Tucker paused, Danny could hear him swallow as the same thought passed through all their heads. “You… you dont think…” 

“Ill go check the lab.” Danny said before he vanished. Already making his way through town as Sam and Tucker raced to follow him. 

It didnt take long for Danny to make it to his house, the ghost shields were down but the Fenton-mobile was nowhere to be seen. It gave Danny little hope but he made his way down to the basement, transforming into his human form just in case. He made his way through his kitchen and down the stairs where he looked into the lab and into his worst fear.

Dani lay still on a metal table, restraints on her arms and legs and waist as a trickle of ectoplasm dripped from her left arm onto the floor. She wasnt even in her ghost form. He jumped the stairs and made it to her in two strides. 

“Dani? Can you hear me?” Her head was lolled to the side but her eyes were open, if only barely. She blinked and squirmed slightly, making a grumbling sound before going still again. She was alive, likely drugged, definitely bleeding out. Her arm had a gash in it and two tubes attached to needles lay on the floor beside her. The tubes were tangled and thrown about, as if someone had tripped on them and then let them be. Rage bubbled within Danny but he forced himself to focus. He would not let Dani bleed out because he was too busy seething at his parents. He grabbed whatever he could use as medical supplies and wrapped Dani’s arm before trying to break her restraint.

Electricity coursed through him and he cursed. Refusing to let panic take over he turned to his parents computer instead. There had to be something that could undo the restraints and regardless he had to wipe whatever information they had on Dani. What he found was a conversation log of Maddie Fenton and an Agent W discussing payment and proper handover specifications for a ‘perfect specimen’ Maddie had found. The money was staggering and Danny’s rage almost made him crush the mouse he was holding. 

At one point, Sam had offered up the idea of destroying the lab and joining Jazz at Gotham U where she had chosen to go for college. They had toyed with the idea, saying it was for the future or it was a last resort, but ultimately never gone through with it. It was a bad idea to drag a meta equivalent to Gotham and in all honesty, Danny wasnt comfortable leaving Amity. He hated leaving the town limits even if necessary, he couldnt imagine choosing to live somewhere else. But right now, staring at his bleary, injured, unstable sister, he decided he would have to. 

His rogues would be pissed and he didnt really have a solid plan but he refused to let this happen again. To anyone.

It was little hassle to find the unlock to the restraints and erase the computer completely. His parents didn't trust the cloud and the physical copies they had would be lost in the fire. Tucker had copies of everything anyway. Dani moved to sit up but really only managed to roll off the table. Danny caught and he shared some of his ectoplasm to try and help her heal. It wasnt much but she started to regain lucidity.

“Danny?” she whispered and Danny hummed in response. Their cores hummed at each other, the harmony encouraging her healing. A boom rattled the building, it was far away but it snapped Danny back to the present. They didnt have time to sit there, he didnt know when his parents would be back and he needed to leave. 

He laid Dani on the floor as he went around and dismantled as many things as he could, leaving the vulnerable pieces in the open. Finally he turned to take the ectoplasm filter that powered the entire house. When he ripped it off its mantle alarms started blaring and he turned and grabbed Dani, hauling her up into his arms as he ran up the stairs. He heard her giggle something about bumpy rides and he was out the door and barrelling towards his beat up car parked across the street. 

Jazz had given it to him for his sixteenth birthday. Apparently she had originally planned to buy it for herself for her move to Gotham but Sam had managed to convince her parents to buy Jazz a brand new car. Something about the public transportation system being dangerous and it being the first thing Sam had asked for that had been manageable. It was beat up and an old red but Danny loved the car and used it often. He worried he would have had to keep his parents away from it, in case they try and ghost proof it but they never even noticed it. He parked it across the street and they just assumed it was the neighbors. No one had lived in the houses around them for years.

He shoved Dani into the passenger side before hoping the hood and sliding into the drivers seat. He didnt know he could do that.

Shoving his key into the ignition the engine roared to life. He managed to get down the street before his house exploded. The shockwave sent the car forward and he managed to catch Dani’s head before it met the dash. His windows rattled but none of them broke, a small victory he thought. 

His mind flashed to all the things he had had in his room, his home. His memories, his souvenirs from Dani, all his space and nasa memorabilia, all his clothes and any pictures he thought were important. His family, his friends, his school, his only solid portal to the Infinite Realm. 

His emergency supplies.

“Fuck.” he whispered as he kept driving. Dani giggled and said something like ‘language’ but Danny was too busy swerving through traffic to hear her. His phone buzzed and he jolted, he maneuvered to pull it from his pocket as he tried to check it only to barely miss an oncoming car and drop it into the footwell of Dani’s seat. He cursed again and kept driving. He wasnt going to stop until he was well and out of Amity. He focused on driving and harmonizing with Dani as he drove. 

As they raced across Amity his core began to pulse with panic. The lingering pain from losing his home exploding into waves of fear.

He wasnt stopping. The pulsing grew more intense and Dani whimpered in her sleep. He tried to calm down but something felt so intrinsically wrong with leaving and his core felt like it was going to burst.

The pressure grew as they got closer and closer to Amity’s border and as they crossed it something in Danny popped. 

He almost blacked out from the pain. The car swerving as he tried to regain control of himself. Something had broken and it felt like he was tilted on an axis. He could barely see and was forced to pull over. His breathes came in short painful gasps and he bit back a scream. He was trying to ride through the pain when his phone rang. Grasping for it he picked up and brought it to his ear.

“Danny? We saw the explosion, are you ok? Did you find Dani?” Sam said, crackling over the phone.

“Mhm. Dani is with me. We are going to Gotham.” Pain cracked his voice as he struggled to breathe. “ ‘s not safe. Need Jazz.” Was all he could manage before he was heaving.

“Danny! Stay where you are. We have ectoshots with us and we can-” Sam was cut off by an explosion behind Danny’s car. He whipped around to see a white van crashing through traffic. Danny slammed his foot on the gas and turned back to the road. The pain in his chest dulled as his desperation to protect Dani slammed back in full force. 

“Meet. In. Gotham.” Was all he could growl before he hung up the phone and drove in what he hoped was the direction north east. 

~~

currently obsessing over dpxdc shenanigans

I just love seeing danny act like a cornered animal

[ro-sham-no]

give unto caesar (give unto me), a poem by me.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

🎊 twst 4th year anni ABEMA stream 🎉

***TWST JP news + anniversary spoilers below the cut!***

The stream starts with Ace, Deuce, Jack, Ruggie, and Sebek's VAs replying to a bunch of quiz questions. I think Ace or Deuce responds with "810" when asked how many items there are on the Heartslabyul lounge's coffee table. Sebek's VA also has a hilarious answer when asked how many Draconians (wakasama fans) there are, he pulls out some super absurdly high number with tons of zeros in it.

There is then a Master Chef/Culinary Crucibles-type section where the VAs decorate their own cake for TWST's anniversary. It’s a team effort! Ace and Deuce put on the cream, Sebek added cookies on top, and Jack and Ruggie did the final decorations. It ended up looking pretty cute ^^ (Ace's VA is the one that added all the whipped cream peaks; it was mostly thanks to Ruggie's VA that the cake still looked aesthetically pleasing at the end.)

Actual game-related news time!!! The SR Grim card for the 4th anniversary is... drumroll please...!! 🥁Apprentice Chef Grim!!! ABGKSKVUkvuDSQEVUOFDFIHAFVA HE'S SO CUTE, HE EVEN HAS A LIL TUNA CAN CAKE 😭

For anniversary, there will be a series of free items given out if you log in during the event period (11th to 25th), which includes THREE 10-pull keys (released on the 11th, 15th, and 18th, respectively). You can receive up to 12 days' worth of freebies. There will be an anniversary banner as per usual; you can earn tokens by pulling on this and then trade them in for a SR magical key (50 tokens) and/or past event-limited SSRs (150 tokens), including past years' birthday cards (100 tokens). There will be a new "Event Recollection" feature which allows you to experience events that you may have missed getting the initial chance to play through yourself.

Mr. S's Mystery Shop will sell items from past events such as limited Groovy materials and spell upgrade materials. This is called the "Memory Shop".

You will be able to mark (multiple) parts of the story as your "favorite". This will be indicated with a pink heart icon.

Battles will have a new feature which allows you to save team compositions for them. Up to 25 compositions may be saved at a time. You can also pin your supports, so you no longer have to scroll to find a specific friend's character to borrow.

There will be 3 new item gachas added to the "Item Lotto" of the shop (for Crewel, Vargas, and Trein). Previously, there was only Sam's. You use a new type of medal (obtained by taking classes) to roll on the teachers' lottos, and can pull items related to what you'd typically earn in each of their classes.

Crewel's gacha may provide an herbal tea which can be used to boost Buddy Levels, including those for characters that are otherwise unable to take Alchemy classes. That means Crowley, Rollo, etc. are fair game. (Yes, you can force feed them tea to obtain FRIENDSHIP✨) The tea may also drop during Special Lessons or Alchemy class.

We finally get magical key conversion! On the summoning screen, you can turn 10 single pull keys into one 10-pull key (which guarantees at least 1 SR; single keys do not have this benefit).

The Guest Room will receive a second floor to decorate. This will be unlocked once you reach a Guest Room rank of 31.

The Guest Room rank cap will be increased from 30 to 40. Additionally, all properties of floor 1 appears to carry over to floor 2. This means the same comfort level and attributes will be present across both.

New BGMs will be added to Mr. S's Mystery Shop. There will also be new voice lines added to Alchemy, Flying, and the outfit selection screen. The official TWST soundtrack will be released on the 29th of May, though preorders are tentatively open now. It is 140+ tracks (149, to be exact!) across 4 discs and goes for 4620 yen (inclusive of tax; without tax the soundtrack is 4200 yen). Japanese retailers are offering different dorms' A5 sized holographic sticker sheets as bonuses for preordering.

That's it for now, mostly quality of life changes! There will most likely be a 4th year anniversary PV/animated short on the actual anniversary day (the 18th)!

[iguessthisisanewobsession]

On the outskirts of Gotham a farm is made.

No one can pinpoint when it was started but it was clearly bountiful.

New orchards of plums apples and several other fruit whisper promises of fruits in the years to come.

Bee houses buzzed with life and ducks quacked and scurried to and from their pond, coop and the garden.

Vegetables by the rows with seasonal berries brushes spring up at the corners of the property.

Greenery that almost seemed to glow with how lush it was.

It was like a small oasis in the desert of Gotham’s dirty land.

And it was ran by only three people.

The woman’s name was Sam. She was known as an activist who seemed to do the primary care of the plants. The property was in her name and she went out of her way to invite people to take what they need.

Danny was the most well known of the trio. He brought the produce into the heart of the city. Anywhere that would take the food, kitchens, pantries, school cafeterias even people’s doorsteps.

Tucker was the technical mastermind, hidden but equally important. The sprinklers, planning of the pollination rotation, harvesting planning and statistics were his main focus on the farm. Not a single square inch of the the land was not under his watchful gaze.

All the food was fresh or properly stored and most interesting of all free.

Of course people were going to talk.

[its-xiu-ya-time]

ahaha hi! wow, i have no idea how posting fanfic works on tumblr at all, let alone how to tag it!! please bear with me!

self indulgent liushen fic! just a oneshot! i hope you all enjoy reading it! thank you to my friends olivia and thyme for helping me a lot with it! i hope i can write more SVSSS fics!!

info + tags + summary and such below the cut!

(and gosh, if anyone has tips on posting fanfic on tumblr please tell me what the heck i'm supposed to be doing...)

Rating: Mature

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: M/M

Fandom: 人渣反派自救系统 - 墨香铜臭 | The Scum Villain's Self-Saving System - Mòxiāng Tóngxiù

Relationship: Liǔ Qīnggē/Shěn Yuán | Shěn Qīngqiū

Characters: Liǔ Qīnggē, Shěn Yuán | Shěn Qīngqiū

Additional Tags: Truth Serum, POV Alternating, Hurt/Comfort, Self-Harm, First Kiss, Miscommunication, Love Confessions, Post Succubus Extra, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Making Up, Making Out, Self-Discovery, wife plot, Canon-Typical Shěn Yuán Stupidity, One Shot

Summary:

Maybe Shen Qingqiu was the one who blurted out his first name, sure, but he was just trying to test the waters, to see if he really could trust Liu Qingge to protect him in dire straits! That's it!

He really, truly did not intend to kiss him—but he just couldn't help it! He was right there, and their faces were so close! It just kind of happened! He swears! And Liu Qingge was definitely the one who started it!

But none of that mattered anymore! In the past, okay?! Done and over! The important thing was, Shen Qingqiu needed to try to make it up to Liu Qingge, and apologize with his whole heart. He really needs somebody to have his back when Luo Binghe tries to turn him into a human stick, and he couldn’t afford to lose Liu Qingge, of all people, one of the very few guys who could potentially match up against Luo Binghe’s OP protagonist bullshit!

Right! He would just have to cling to Liu Qingge's thighs this entire quest! And also avoid getting stung by the Secret Feelings Stinging Jelly!

***

Shen Qingqiu makes a ""mistake"" in the form of a kiss. Liu Qingge gets upset. They avoid each other until they physically can't anymore, and find out the truth together in the form of a wife plot.

[lizardkingeliot]

i think they might like each other just a little bit you guys

[rqgnarok]

i can see you - jamie tartt

fandom: ted lasso

wc: 6,082

warnings: SMUT, both implications and the actual act. no use of pronouns but reader is described with female anatomy. 

summary: you and jamie have been watching each other for ages, trying not to feel the pull between you. a moment in the hallway changes everything.

author’s note at the end <3

masterlist / ao3 / ko-fi

Jamie comes back to Richmond one cold, quiet morning.

Quiet, because his teammates refuse to talk to him even after he’s at the receiving end of the harshest glares Jamie’s ever seen. They prickle his skin and make him feel too small in his own body, but he juts his chin up and trots around the field following Ted’s instructions.

“He’s the worst,” Sam tells you one morning after the facts. You bought an extra coffee on your way in because Sam had spent the entire week clenching his teeth so tightly you could see it in his jaw. It had only taken you one nudge and he spilled his feelings out like a dam breaking. “He just makes me feel awful about myself. And even if he’s apologized, that doesn’t mean he’s changed. I know Ted believes in second chances and I do, too, but that man is incapable of improving. The only person he’s ever cared about is himself.”

You’re inclined to believe him just because of how dejected he sounds. So when Jamie Tartt comes by the PR office later looking for Keeley and finds you instead, the annoyance that overtakes his features only cements your bad image of him.

“Keeley ain’t in?”

“Just missed her,” you say, short and clipped, head bent to focus on your work. “She’s out for lunch, Roy’ll probably bring her back in an hour.”

Silence meets your words, and you look up to see him looking at you, seemingly lost in thought. “Is… there anything else I can help you with?”

He snaps out of it, eyes a little wide and mouth struggling to find the right words. He’s pretty, you allow yourself the thought before immediately filing it away from your mind. He’s an asshole, your brain supplies, and yeah, that’s much better. 

“Sorry,” he says in that awful accent of his that’s in no way endearing. Not even a little bit. It doesn’t help that he looks actually apologetic, unsure, tugging at his shirt nervously. “We, um, haven’t met, have we? ‘m Jamie.”

“I know,” you say, not exactly kindly, but the whole world knows who he is. You’d have to be living in outer space to not be aware of Jamie Tartt’s existence. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Jamie’s tentative smile turns bitter and he tucks his head down, embarrassed. “Ah. ‘Course. Yeah, no, I’m. ‘m sure you have.”

He sounds just like Sam had when telling you about Jamie’s torment and it tugs at your heart despite how you don’t want it to.

“Anyways, just,” he shrugs, trying to give you a sunny grin and failing only slightly. You almost respect his efforts. “Know you’ve been here a while and all but, uh. Welcome, anyways. Richmond’s a nice place to be.”

You sigh.

“You, too,” you say when he’s already at the door, surprising both of you with your sudden considerate candor. You shrug a little. “What you’re doing can’t be easy. It takes a lot of guts to come back here. I hope it’s worth it.”

“So do I,” he says before giving you one last smile, albeit a bit more genuine, and leaving your office. 

After that, you’re both extremely aware of each other. It’s like the universe has decided to make sure you’re always in close vicinity, bumping each other in the hallways, arriving and leaving work at the same time, being paired up by Keeley for ad campaigns and photoshoots. You have the suspicion that Keeley’s been doing it on purpose– a good boss but a nosy friend, nevertheless, but it’s proven incorrect when she assures you don’t have to work with Jamie if you don’t want to.

“I know how he can be,” she says, eyes kind and hands on your shoulders, shaking you a little. “If he makes you uncomfortable in any way just say the word and I’ll take care of it, babes. I know how to handle him anyways.”

But you’re a grown woman. You can handle an asshole at the workplace, even if it comes in the beautiful package that is Jamie Tartt. 

You can’t say you haven’t noticed him; his plump lips and smart mouth, defined arms covered in tattoos, hands that look like they know their way around the in-between of someone’s legs. You’re angry at him by your connection to the other boys but you’re not blind– and Jamie is a sight to behold. 

He seems to know it, too, smirking at you whenever he catches your eye. He brushes by you in the hallway and you get a whiff of his cologne, sometimes a steady hand around your elbow when your steps stumble. 

He murmurs a quiet alright, love? and you both move on with your day, your skin a little too warm and the imprints of his fingers tattooed on your skin until you get home. 

You pay him back for those moments at random times. Once, during a photoshoot, you make a noise of frustration when the photographer insists that Jamie poses a certain way, dressed in his uniform as if he were about to jump into the pitch but looking a little too put together.

“It doesn’t feel genuine,” you explain, but you only receive blank, annoyed looks in response, so you take matters into your own hands and walk into the set, placing yourself in front of Jamie.

“Just-” you sigh, frustrated, and reach towards him before hesitating. He’s sitting down for the photo, and the sight of him looking up at you, his body between your legs does something you can’t bear to think about in a workplace environment. “May I?”

Jamie stutters, suddenly nervous. “I- sure. Go ‘head.”

You take off his hairband with a swift motion and tangle your fingers in his hair, messing it up. It’s soft and runs like water between your fingers, the smell of some fancy conditioner and hair product hitting your nose. 

You dig your nails into his scalp a little too roughly, and before the apology sitting on your tongue can be said, Jamie’s shiver overtakes his body, a muffled sound being bitten back for you not to hear it, but you hear it anyways. 

It makes you stop, just for a second, and your eyes meet. There’s something different in Jamie’s, greyish green darkening like you’re looking into the eye of the storm. The air is suddenly thick with tension, your hands still in his hair, his own twitching in his lap as if wanting to reach for–

Behind you, the photographer asks, “Are you done?”

You gulp and look away from Jamie, voice incredibly steady despite how dry your throat feels. “Almost.”

You hand him the hairband back and your fingers brush when he goes to take it. He exhales a gust of air, slowly, as if trying to avoid any suspicion of how badly the little touch is affecting him. 

When it’s back on, you reach again to pull loose some strands of hair and your other hand holds him by the chin, keeping him still. 

“There,” you say after a couple of moments or after an eternity. You let go of him and the room comes back into focus. 

Jamie blinks as if he’d been having trouble thinking past the touch of your hands on him, oddly intimate. You move out of the way so the photographer can squint at whatever you did with his hair. “You see what I mean?”

The rest of the photoshoot is uneventful, but it becomes quite clear that whatever things you do to get into Jamie’s head work as efficiently to get into yours. 

The team begins warming up to him after the whole Dubai Air debacle, and something inside of you unclenches in relief when you see Jamie sharing beer and laughter with the boys in the locker room after Sam’s press conference. 

It feels like permission. The guilt you feel whenever you stare at Jamie a little too long suddenly dissipates, and you dare to bite your lip when he catches your eye across the room. His stare slips to your mouth before refocusing on his conversation, and the way he tugs at his collar and his cheeks flush makes you feel victorious despite the team’s loss tonight. 

Later at Keeley’s, Roy nurses a beer while splayed out on the couch and asks you about Jamie. “Please tell me he’s done something stupid so I can punch him in the dick next time I see him.”

“You need an excuse for that?” you raise your eyebrows in question. 

Roy grunts, but there’s hidden glee in his expression as he concedes your point. “Fair enough. He’s given you any trouble?”

“Nothing worth mentioning, I guess,” you shrug, but you make the mistake of hesitating before answering and Roy perks up like a dog who’s caught an intruder. 

“Spill,” he orders, but you’ve been friends with both him and Keeley long enough to know rolling your eyes when he gets all manly is an appropriate response. “Come on, out with it. What he’d do?”

“Nothing!” you exclaim, throwing a pillow at him. He catches it swiftly, which annoys you a little. “Relax, old man. If he ever pulls a little too hard on my pigtails you’ll be the first to know.”

Roy grunts again, not satisfied but done pushing for the night. 

The real trouble begins at Christmas, hours after the boys exchange gifts and most of the staff is sent home. You’re on your way out, coat on and Uber on the way when you run, once again, into Jamie in the hall, almost knocking both of you to the ground. He has to quickly hold onto your waist, your hands on his chest, to stop it. 

“You scared the hell out of me,” you chastise him, both hating and loving the way he smirks at your breathlessness. “I thought you all troublemakers were gone already. You’ve got the rest of the day off, what are you still doing here?”

“Can’t go back to Manchester with a game tomorrow here, can I?” his hands tighten around your waist for a delicious, stretched-out moment before he lets you go. Jamie covers his flush coughing behind his hand as your own slip from his chest. “You lot just got me back after all. Can’t leave you hangin’ without your best player.”

“Ha, ha,” you laugh sarcastically, knowing he’s mostly kidding about that. “Still, I thought you’d be the first one home. Some Louis Vuitton slippers and Gucci robe on, expensive rum…”

“Oh, know me so well, do you,” he teases, poking at your bag. “What about you? You’re on your way out?”

“Uber’s almost here,” you show him your screen so he can see that your ride’s less than five minutes away. “Are you coming around to Higgin’s later?”

Jamie shrugs. “Don’t know if I’m invited.”

“Of course, you’re invited, Tartt. Everyone is.”

“Don’t know if I’m welcome, then,” he corrects.

“Everyone is,” you say again, firm but a little bit gentler than before. “Honestly, you’re lucky you look the way you do, ‘cause you’re a little bit thick.”

Jamie brightens like a kid on, well, Christmas. “You think I’m hot?”

“Of course, that’s what you take from that,” you roll your eyes. “I gotta go, but I better see you there later.”

You point menacingly at him but he only steps forward until your finger’s touching his chest, towering over you with a smirk that screams trouble. “To give you your gift, you mean?” 

“You did not get me something,” you say, as sure about it as you are that the sky is blue and dirt is brown. “Not when you dropped the ball with your Secret Santa earlier today.”

“Maybe I like you better,” he suggests, voice low and rich. The sound makes a knot of heat tighten in your belly. “Than I like them, you’ve ever thought about that?”

You remember what Sam told you when Jamie first came back, how he was incapable of thinking about anyone other than himself. The Mancunian had proved that statement to be incorrect a handful of times already, and you’ve been flirting with him long enough to know you’re attracted to him, but you don’t expect any kind of emotional reciprocation from him. Sure, you’re friendly, maybe you’ll call him your friend at one point, but that’s as far as it usually gets with someone like Jamie. 

You didn’t even get him a present. That’s how close you two are. 

“Okay, I’ll bite,” you relent. You really should be going, but a part of you needs to entertain this conversation for some reason. It’s not always that you get to talk to Jamie without anyone else present. “What could you have possibly gotten me that you couldn’t give your Secret Santa?”

You barely see the face he makes before you’re being kissed within an inch of your life. Right there in the hallway of AFC Richmond’s training headquarters, Jamie Tartt holds your face in his hands as his tongue makes its way into your mouth, warm and wet and relentless. 

You open yourself up to him without thinking it through, your phone lost somewhere in the mess of limbs as you latch onto his shirt, desperate for balance. 

The kiss is toe-curling hot, your arms wrapping around Jamie’s neck while his own flail a delicious path through your back, hands going under your coat so you feel his skin hot against your sweater. 

He ends up with his arm tight around your waist and a hand on the back of your neck, keeping you close. Your mouths slide against each other, warm breaths trapped between your lips as the desperation for more grows and grows and grows and–

Jamie draws back and leans his forehead against yours only to kiss you again, softer and lingering while you’re still catching your breath, then one last kiss for good measure before finally drawing back. Like it happens around Jamie, the world you’d forgotten had existed outside the two of you comes back with rushing clarity, the hallway still miraculously empty. 

“Somethin’ like that,” he says, and it takes you a moment to remember what you were talking about before this. Christmas, parties, gifts… 

Jamie takes one last look at your face like he’s trying to commit you to memory while you’re all flushed and breathless before he lets you go, walking away into the locker room. “Merry Christmas, love.”

You stay there for a while after he goes, your fingers inevitably going to your kiss-bruised lips, brain still struggling to catch up to the moment. 

Jamie kissed you. You kissed him back. You kissed each other like you weren’t at work and where anyone could walk by and see you. 

Your phone buzzes in your hand. Your Uber’s outside and waiting.

You end up missing Higgin’s later that afternoon, unsure if Jamie would actually go after you bugged him about it and are terrified that he might. 

You’re not avoiding him. For fuck’s sake, you’re a little too old for high school-level social skills, but you’re not sure your heart could take it if you see him so soon after your kiss, acting like nothing happened. 

Or worse, making sure to sit next to you during dinner just so he could put his hand on your thigh and make you sweat while everyone’s watching, unaware of the change that’s just transpired in your relationship.

By the next day, you’ve decided to keep things professional, and it helps that Jamie doesn’t really bring it up. You see him before the game in the locker room when you go record some stories for the Instagram page, and he says hello as casually as the rest of the boys. 

You exhale a breath you didn’t know were holding and wish them all the best for the game, though if it’s relief or disappointment that washes over you, you’re not sure.

Life moves on. You continue to work together, not sans stolen glances and running into each other in the hallway. It’s different now, because you both know the other remembers that Christmas kiss and accidentally touching when passing each other by makes your breath hitch and Jamie’s face flush. 

The energy you had building up between you is charged with something dangerous now, and unless you dare to talk about it it’ll only build up into something you eventually won’t be able to ignore. 

But fuck, do you think about it. About the way Jamie’s hands held you, how they kept you in your place and how they would pin you down if you ever were to end up in bed together, his hips driving home while his mouth brushed the shell of your ear, his voice low and accent thick with the heat of the moment. 

Fuck. Fuck, you’re so fucking gone for him. 

It’s also different because Roy comes back, and it’s like he just knows there’s something about Jamie that you’re not telling him. 

“What the fuck was that?” 

“What?” you question, trying not to sound too defensive. 

“What was that… look?” he splutters. Never once in your life have you seen Roy Kent fucking splutter like he couldn’t get a grip on a situation. 

“What look?” maybe you can gaslight your way out of this one, you hope, because Jamie had been less than subtle when coming up to you both in the parking lot and talking about needing your help for a sponsored post he was supposed to make. 

He got real close, so near you could smell the mix of cologne, sweat, and plain Jamie that rested on his skin. While showing you his phone put a hand on the small of your back, fingers spread open and hot like a brand. 

It’d stolen your breath for a second, a hitch in an exhale that had caught both Jamie’s and Roy’s attention. You eyed Jamie warningly but he only smirked, completely aware of what he was doing. You said something about tagging the sponsor and then he was gone, brilliant smile and thanks on his lips as he waved you goodbye.

“That look, all cheeky and shit,” Roy points at where Jamie used to be and looks around for witnesses. You roll your eyes so hard it makes your head hurt a little. “Like he knows something I don’t, as if there’s anything in his brain other than elevator music.”

And of course, he tells Keeley about it, which earns you an interrogation as soon as you come down to the office. 

“Thought he didn’t have access to his account,” Keeley frowns. “Didn’t you change his password after the Oreo Incident?”

“God, don’t even think about the Oreo Incident while near me,” you rub at your temples to try to diminish the migraine building up at the mere thought of it. 

Now you gotta worry about Roy becoming a buffer between you and Keeley not buying your usual excuses. With them and the rest of the team and staff in the mix, you don’t stand a chance to get near Jamie. 

You start surviving on fantasies alone that grow and spiral into unrealistic, too-hot scenarios. 

Jamie, his shorts around his ankles and you on your knees in an empty locker room, his hands on your hair as he pants please, love, so fuckin’–

You on the desk and Jamie with his head between your legs, late into the night after everyone’s gone home and it’s you and him in your office as you moan fuck, Jamie, that’s– yeah, that’s good–

A night in a hotel room after some away game, Jamie letting you ride the leftover energy out of him. Thassit, angel, put your back into it, yeah? Be good for me. 

It’s too much and it’s not enough. 

Jamie throws himself into his training, trailing after Roy’s approval and eager to improve in every way he can, both as a person and a player. It’s nice to see him so dedicated, you think, remembering the traces of cockiness when you two first met in your office. 

They’re still there somewhere, and you see them shine when, for some reason, all the coaching staff– Ted included– give Jamie the bird mid-game. You’re sitting on the V.I.P. box next to Keeley when his monster of a goal goes through, screaming your lungs out and hugging everyone within six feet of you. 

You’re too far away from the field to see clearly, but you can imagine Jamie with striking clarity: cocky expression and tongue out, arms crossed before the rest of the boys jump with glee to embrace and congratulate him. 

The locker room is a mess of sweat and laughter when you go down there, Keeley making a beeline for Roy and Rebbecca going straight to Ted. It leaves you with a bunch of overexcited men hugging you and handing you drinks in celebration.

“No stories for the ‘gram today,” you promise when Zorreaux and Dani begin posing, making faces, and showing off muscles to you. You can’t help but laugh, Sam’s arm around you. “I’m off duty tonight, boys. On a fan capacity only.”

“Are we allowed to date fans?” Jan Maas asks, half joke half genuine question. The boys make ooooh noises of interest.

You laugh again, not taking it seriously, but Keeley suddenly pipes up from her spot on Roy’s lap. “Please don’t! It’s a PR nightmare.”

Roy adds helpfully. “I’ll punch you in the dick.”

The conversation shifts to other topics but you search the room to find Jamie already looking at you, eyes dark and jaw tight. It’s barely a moment of eye contact, insignificant to anyone else in the room, but it’s enough to make your insides flutter. Meet me outside. 

Thank God everyone’s too distracted celebrating when you sneak out of the locker room about half an hour later. You find Jamie already there, waiting for you at the end of it. He brightens when he sees you, shutting his phone and putting it in his back pocket.

It’s a little overwhelming, having Jamie Tartt’s full attention on you. As if it’s not exactly what you’ve been pining after for months.

“What are you doing here, Mr. Man of the Match?”

“Me?” he wonders faux incredulously while leaning casually against the wall, a dramatic hand to his chest. You walk till you’re right in front of him. “I work here, love. Or are you forgetting my heroic play out there already?”

You scoff. “We work here, dumbass, and how can I forget? It’s all everyone’s talking about. What are you doing away from your victory parade?”

“Same thing you are. Taking a breather,” he shrugs, giving you a slow once over, taking you in head to toe. You’re wearing a Richmond jersey and some loose jeans, nothing to write home about, but Jamie seems to like it. His tongue wets his lips before he focuses on your face again, charming. “Lots of people in there, yeah? Needed a minute.”

You raise your eyebrows, amused and unconvinced. “I can leave you alone if you want.”

Jamie abandons his spot against the wall and goes to you, slow and careful like a hunter stalking its prey. He says, voice a low, rough murmur, “Didn’t I already tell ya I like you better? You can stay as long as you want, love.”

Your entire body heats up at the callback to last December, the reminder of how easily Jamie snuck into your personal space and stole your breath with a heart-stopping kiss in this very same hallway. 

“I‘m not gonna lie, this seems a little orchestrated, Tartt.”

He smiles, indulgent. “Oh?”

“Sending me looks, getting me all alone…” you take a step closer so you’re poorly hidden behind the water cooler. If someone were to walk out of the locker room, they’d have to walk this way and take a turn to see you standing so close to each other.

“You were the one who followed me out,” he reminds you, tilting his head and raising his brows. He’s so expressive and you can’t take it, want to put your mouth to every inch of his face until he’s saying nothing but your name. “Who’s the real mastermind here, ey?”

“Don’t even,” you warn, unable to bite back an upward tilt of the lips. “I know how you get in hallways, mister. I haven’t forgotten, yet.”

“Haven’t forgotten you kissed me back, either,” he adds and dares to place a not-quite kiss on the corner of your mouth, a barely-there brush of the lips. “Couldn’t let go of me, could you?”

“Yeah, well, you leave a lot to the imagination,” you can’t help but complain, the little touch not enough to satiate the hunger you’ve been cultivating since that moment. You grab onto his shirt with a strength you didn’t know you possessed. “I gotta brush up against you just to see if you’ll do something about it and you never do.”

Jamie laughs, rich and warm. 

“You think I don’t see ya?” he wonders, fingers brushing against your knuckles before his hands travel slowly up your arms, touch agonizingly warm. Your breath hitches, and it only makes him bolder. “When you pass me by right here in the hallway, touchin’ me ‘on accident’? Leavin’ me wantin’ more?”

“Do you?” you wonder, voice low, facade cracking as your eyes fall to his mouth for a second, stare hungry. “Want more?”

“How could I not?” he admits. You’re looking at him like you want to take a bite out of him, and the adrenaline of that goal is finally wearing off to find more unreleased energy behind it, a tension that’s been strung tight long before he stole a kiss from you. “Fucking Christ, angel, you’re…”

“What?” you wonder when he trails off. Your hands brush against the hem of his shirt and Jamie feels your touch even through his clothing. “What about me?”

You make him feel like he’s on fire, right here in the hallway where anyone, anyone, could see you. “You drive me fucking crazy.”

You smirk, pleased. 

“What would you do, huh? If I touched you right now?”

Jamie breathes out his nose harshly. “Fuck.”

“What if I told you-” you begin, slow and tortuous. “That I haven’t stopped thinking about you here? Against the wall where anyone could walk by? What if I wanted you so badly that I didn’t care if they did?”

Jamie follows the bridge of your nose and the shape of your eyebrows with his eyes, the bite of your lip calling to him like a brightly lit bullseye.

He thinks fuck it. Fuck it, fuck restraint, fuck stringing this out any longer. He’s a winner tonight, in more ways than one. 

Who knows who leans in first? All you know is that you both meet in the middle, clashing like two waves hitting each other, his mouth frantic and eager on yours. He has one hand at the small of your back, pulling you to him, and another one on your collarbone edging dangerously to wrap around your throat, fingers drumming against tender skin. 

You’re touching him everywhere you can reach, feeling so untethered to the rest of the world that your knees buckle, helping him keep you right where he wants you. Whatever remaining bravado you had left vanishes when he has you like this, and you’re desperately trying to keep him close by clutching at the back of his shirt, tanging your fingers into his hair, and raking your nails against his clothed torso. 

You can’t make up your goddamned mind. You want all of him, putty in your hands, all the time. 

You hear a couple of voices, laughing and joking, leaving the locker room and becoming louder by the second. You separate, mouths bruised and tender to the touch. Jamie offers you his hand, smile glinting dangerously. “You trust me?”

You scoff, taking it and intertwining your fingers. “Against my better fucking judgment.”

He pulls you towards the closest exit and you let yourself be led, anything other than your phone forgotten in your office. 

In the blink of an eye, he’s got you in his car, his hand on your thigh edging closer and closer and closer to where you want it. You’re sure he misses one or three stop signs and runs a red light, but the streets are almost deserted at this hour and your skin is warm, only getting warmer even with the AC at full blast. 

When you get to his place it’s like you never stopped, and despite your urgency for him to have you right there in the middle of the training facilities, you love the way he pins you against the wall of his home, picture frames rattling with the force of it. His hands bruise your hips and he lifts your jersey up to your chest so his mouth can travel a path of bare skin down your torso, wet and open-mouthed. 

He looks up to you when he reaches the waist of your pants, kneeling in front of you, a question melted in the sheer want of the green of his eyes.

He’s asking for permission, you realize. 

Something sweet momentarily replaces the urgency you have for him, and you have to drag him back up for another kiss. He makes a questioning noise when you pull him towards you but melts against you when his lips touch yours. It’s a tender thing, an answer, one last quiet moment before you both sink into the chaos. 

“Lemme see you,” Jamie kneels back between your legs, this time cleverly undoing your pants and leaving you in nothing but your underwear while you struggle out of your shirt and leave it forgotten on the floor. 

His fingers brush over the wet spot between your legs and you gasp, insides clenching in response to his touch. He sounds gutted when he says, “God, look at you. Haven’t even touched you, yet, fuck.”

He tucks his face between your legs and runs his tongue over your clothed clit, the sensation of the wet fabric against his tongue driving him crazy. 

He’s painfully hard against his boxers. Jamie’s been waiting for this too long– there’s no way he’s lasting as long as he wants to, but he can focus on you for the time being. It’s not a difficult task, your body’s trembling with the force of your arousal and begging him to do something. 

It calls to him, muting the rest of the world around him.

“Are you ever gonna, or should I get things going on my own?”

He smirks against your thighs, biting playfully at the skin there before going alright, alright when you pull at his hair, though it only makes his dick twitch in his pants. 

He feels more than he sees your shiver when he finally gets your underwear out of the way, and he wastes no time before hoisting one of your legs over his shoulder before diving in, eating you out with the energy of a man starved. 

You hadn’t even made it past the living room.

“Fuck,” you moan, hips thrusting forward and your hand tightening against his hair, the other one searching and failing to find balance against the wall you’re leaning against. 

You want to close your eyes as the waves of pleasure wash over you, your muscles taunt with how Jamie’s expertly driving you closer and closer to your orgasm, but you can’t take your eyes off of him. “Fuck, Jamie, that’s good. You’re so good at that, oh–”

You see how his body takes in the praise and feel it against your center when he moans into you, tongue cleverly touching all the right places. Jamie closes his eyes, thoroughly enjoying the experience. 

He suddenly draws back, earning a noise of displeasure from you only to be rendered back into a moaning mess when his hands replace his mouth. He looks up at you like he’s staring at a deity.

“What d’ya want?” he asks as he slides two fingers through your folds, his other hand keeping your hips pinned to the wall as you try to buckle into his touch, whimpers echoing through Jamie’s home. “Huh, love? Have I left you speechless already?”

“You said I left you thinkin’ about it,” he recalls, too coherent for someone as terribly horny as he is. But Jamie needs to know, he wants you to crave him as desperately as he does you. “Back in the hall, that’s what you said. Whad’ya want, love? Where do ya want me?”

“Here,” you pant, eyes closed and face tilted upwards as you try to move your hips, chasing ecstasy. Jamie’s fingers are slowing down, probably to make you focus and only driving you further insane. “Anywhere, everywhere. Fuck, Jamie, I want all of it, all of you, please–”

“Greedy,” he singsongs, but any amusement is ripped from his throat with a moan when you pull at his hair again, walnut mist locks like silk between your fingers. He quickens the pace, unable to deny you. “Fuck, greedy thing, aren’t you? Wasn’t enough to stare me down and to steal a kiss, ya want all of it.”

You sigh, muscles clenching. “Yes, yes, yes, yes…”

“Then take it,” he gives you all you want on a silver platter, right there for you to take. “All you need, angel, ‘s all yours, ‘m all yours–”

With both his fingers and mouth back at work, you’re a lost cause, reaching your high and letting it wash over all your limbs like TV static before you become boneless against the wall. 

Jamie kisses your knee before moving your leg from his shoulder and setting it gently on the ground, back on his feet just in time to kiss you soundly. 

He’s practically holding you up, your arms limply hanging around his neck and your legs made of jelly after the strength of your orgasm. It’s like you let go of all the tension that started building up the second Jamie walked into your office that cold November morning and there’s nothing left holding you up other than his hold on you.

Except Jamie’s hips push into yours and you feel the length of him pressed against you. It’s a reminder that no matter how badly he seemed to enjoy eating you out he hasn’t been able to find his own release. Yet. 

You smirk lazily, finding the strength from God knows where to cup him in your hand, watching his expressive face contort in desperate pleasure. “What about you, Jay? What do you want?”

Jamie is unable to do anything other than babble nonsense as you move past his shorts and boxers to take him in your hand, slow and tight. He gives out a little cry when you strengthen your grip, exhaling as he rests his head on your shoulder. 

He never does answer you, and Jamie comes like that in your arms, quick and easy. He’s kissing your shoulder, your neck, the hinge of your jaw before finding your mouth and slipping his tongue past your lips, languid and easy.

“You getting tired on me, angel?” he wonders, massaging the skin of the back of your neck to gain your attention. You turn your head, following his motions. His eyes haven’t lost their dark edge. His mouth is red and calling for you to worsen the damage. “Cause the night’s young, you know. Bed’s comfortable, too. If I’m good against a wall, wait ‘til I get you in me bedroom.”

“You’re an idiot,” you say, but you feel a flutter of interest between your legs. “Fuck, I can’t believe I’m attracted to you.”

He steals another kiss just for that, giddy with victory, though you don’t know how long you’re gonna get away with calling it stealing when you keep giving yourself to him without a second thought. 

“Is that a yes?”

You pretend to ponder on it. “Well. You haven’t fucked me, yet. There’s still room for improvement.”

Jamie shivers. He can’t resist the challenge and you know it. Whether you’re on the other side of the room or in his arms, he’s never getting enough of you and you love it. 

“Oh, angel,” he cups your face, already on his way to seal his lips onto yours. “You’ve no idea.”

___

IT’S HERE IT’S HERE IT’S HERE

i’m so afraid of not living up to the expectations of the song but i couldn’t get this idea out of my head!!! thank you if you got this far into the read and i appreciate any comment of support and feedback! 

i’m hoping to put out two or three more fics this summer before school starts, after that my schedule might not allow me to post that often but i’m not gonna leave you guys hanging, don’t worry!

<3

_____

taglist: @dunster @daisy-crybaby @talksoprettyjjx @loveslide @ccomandercody @marrianena-library​ @shakespeareanwannabe @ajkdjdnkekemfxj @higherthanheroes @jamietarttdodo @lightninginab0ttle @seacactusplant @sokkigarden @kti2004 @mrfitzsimmons @guccilongboard @jellycolors @littlemisssunshine192 @uniiversed @respondingtoshowerthoughts-blog  @royskents @youbelongwithflo @curlypeter @alipap3 @feelinthesefics​

[pollsnatural]

Warning: no hate towards Sam in the tags.

[spinningspencer]

Just thinking about how Spencer Reid would refuse to go to work in the morning without a goodbye from you.

If he gets his way, he gives you a long kiss, a bit too long to be just a goodbye kiss, but neither of you ever complain about it. A tight hug will do too, or some soft kisses stolen from your still sleepy lips when he gets a call from Hotch in the middle of the night.

But the worst days are when he can get nothing but a "Goodbye" or "love you" text because you weren't home when he had to leave for work. The whole team immediately knows that he didn't get his goodbye when he walks into the bureau without the usual sparkle in his eyes.

[brothebro]

I can finally share this 😱 the chapter is here and I can post the art I did for it two weeks ago! Hurray

Anyway, Sam and Danny at an event 💙👌

[sammygender]

thoughts on how the sam & dean part of the fight before sam left for stanford went !

i am addicted to thinking about precanon so thank you for this <33

i think people r generally way too optimistic about how that initial seperation between them went. dean is awful to sam about stanford even years after he left and years after he came back!! hes still very visibly angry about it in s5 which is NINE YEARS after he left in the first place and refuses to even tolerate the idea it was a good moment for sam. i cannot comprehend how people think 22 year old dean had the emotional maturity to even let sam go without a fight, nevermind be supportive about it.

like. theres this amazinggg art on here of sam hitchhiking to stanford and all the comments are like 'erm that black eye would be from JOHN actually!' (side note but it is so funny to me how spn fans decide john hit them based on implication (which i agree w... to an extent...) but dean hitting sam onscreen multiple times somehow translates to 'DEAN WOULD NEVER DO THAT'. erm. okay.) 'nooo dean would've given sam a lift!'

and like. what show are you watching. if dean would've given sam a lift he would've done it to the bus station in moody silence and then locked the doors of the impala so sam couldn't get out to catch his bus to stanford and they would've started physically fighting for the car keys and dean eventually wouldve let sam get them and sam wouldve left. or something. but it would not be some sweet brotherly moment bc that directly contradicts canon <3

i do think the worst of the fight is between sam & john - that's always what's implied in canon - and in my head dean's just standing there stonefaced maybe refusing to even talk to sam until theyre left alone somehow and he breaks. but i also think dean hits sam at some point, will always have the image in my head of sam showing up to stanford w a bloody nose and fending off questions. (internally hes like no my dad didnt do this it was my brother so its fine. <3.) theres a scene like this in one of my fics so im just drawing from that. but. like....

idk how dean/john finds out. if dean found out before john, i think dean probably wouldve run to him about it in an attempt to get sam Not To Go as much as it would be nice if he didnt, so i reckon they have to find out at about the same time. i think sam is unsure what to expect from dean, who of course (as far as we see both in flashbacks and in canon) alternates between genuine care and support and angry, desperate possessiveness. he probably hopes for the best and expects the worst and gets the worst.

there r definitely lots of different ways it could go....maybe sam tells dean and dean tells john. maybe sam tells john without telling dean at all and thats how dean finds out which totally wrecks him. maybe sam tells them both at the same time. maybe sam never tells them and they find the acceptance letter. this is why stanford fight is sooo fascinating. i feel like i could write five different versions of it and all would be possible/interesting.

but whichever way, i just dont see dean as contradicting john. he generally Doesnt Ever precanon, this is established, he admits it himself, thats why its such a huge moment when he defends sam at the end of s1.....sam going on about dean 'protecting him' is 1. more subtle and probably to do with dean being the one to shoulder most of johns emotional baggage than the heller misinterpretation of 'john hit dean but not sam and thats what this means!!!' (tho i am sure dean did genuinely Protect sam sometimes including from physical violence. of course he did. this isnt to discredit that..i just emphasise the Sometimes.). and 2. partially just classic Sam Rewriting History (u always protected me from dad, from lucifer....girl he did those things very little certainly not always. know your worth sam winchester).

so if dean gives sam a very angry lift (to a nearby bus station...there is absolutely zero fucking way hes driving him to stanford and tbh i already find this quite unlikely but possibilities r interesting) its on john's say-so or at least not disapproval. which like. sure maybe. john certainly is concerned about sam's safety even after he kicks him out, checking up on him at stanford etc, id believe that hed want to ensure sam Gets there even if the fight ended up so bad he told sam he couldnt come back. tho hes stubborn and i dont think hed say it. so maybe itd be a case of dean kind of picking up that that's what john wants and complying even though right now half of him wants to never see sam again and the other half wants to tie him to the radiator so he can never leave. sorry i am literally brainstorming fic ideas in this ask answer now.

anyway....SORRY id say long ass answer as always but this is actually INSANELY long......sorry guys im about to embark upon getting tested for adhd and maybe then my rambles will be, while not shorter in length, more cohesive? tldr fandom is wrong dean is an absolute ASS during stanford fight. obviously sam leaving devastates him and how does dean cope with devastation or perceived abandonment do we think?? hm?? he is just as angry as john for the same and different reasons. and thats really so much more interesting than him being Secretly Supportive. <3