#something something no matter what timeline we’re in i will find you

[cantobear]

[parasite]

[accioscarheadthings]

ULTRAMINE ~ CHAPTER 1

kenji sato x reader

summary: you are professor sato's student and mina contacts you when kenji finds himself with an injured kaiju baby

pairings: kenji sato x fem!student!reader

author's note: turning this into a series (?) may not follow the movie's timeline completely. future smut, so minors DNI.

masterlist !

you stood beside professor sato in the tube lift as it descended to kenji's basement.

you fiddled with the ends of your shirt, anxiety beginning to spiral within you by the second.

being at kenji’ house was something you never imagined would happen, especially after your not-so-smart first date. 

like kenji, you also had a legacy to bear, with your father as an expert mechanic, he built a titanium-alloyed suit with sato to fight by his side. and with him gone, you had to take on the mantle and the responsibility of protecting the city.

kenji knew you as his father’s student, slightly bitter that his father was spending time with someone who was not him.

but he couldn’t deny, you were a sight for sore eyes.

he would throw his words at you now and then, relishing in your sarcasm and remarks, falling more and more for your fiery demeanour and silver tongue.

and with you both fighting kaiju attacks together, it only pulled you closer to each other.

the baseball player won a bet against you, asking for just one date with you. 

you were skeptical about it, not wanting to get tangled in his spider web of messy celebrity life. but you couldn’t back off from the bet. a deal was a deal.

the date went surprisingly well, with you and kenji bickering back and forth about the most mundane things, just to get a rise out of the other. but as time went by, the sexual tension was increasing between you two.

you couldn’t deny it, no matter how much he annoyed you with his bratty charm. he was hot. 

the date was supposed to end with him dropping you in your place, but instead, you found yourself in his arms in the back of his car- naked, needy, and moaning his name like a prayer.

after that, he took you into your apartment and fucked you good, mumbling praises and promises as he drilled into you. the next morning, he left before you woke up, leaving a note saying that last night was fun. 

no calls or messages after that. he merely acknowledged your presence after that.and you were thankful for it. a bit.

part of you wished he would reach out and check in on you after that night. but you knew he wouldn’t.

it made you feel used and unwanted. took you quite a while to get over it, but you eventually did. 

you only took care of the fights he didn’t pay mind to. like the kaiju attack he ditched when the kdf intervened.

and now with the doom of meeting him again, your nerves were on end.

“fret not, dear,” professor sato glanced at your tensed state, “it will be alright.”

"professor, um, you still haven't told me why we’re at your son’s place. or what we're gonna do. or why you needed me out of all people-”

"i just need you to trust me on this, dear. you're the only one i do at this moment. can you do that for me?"

"you know i'm big on trust, professor, " i commented, shaking my head.

the lift stopped, and professor smiled, "that i do," 

when the lift doors opened, ultramn’s face was right on, big glowing eyes.

you took a step back with a yelp, “what the-"

"oh my-" ultraman gasped, “y/n… hi,” he seemed to be dazed, breathless.

you nodded nervously, glaring at his metal head and glowing eyes, glad that you didn't have to look at his handsome face, “hi,”

“dad! what is she doing here?” kenji hollered, as if you were invisible.

you glared at him even harder, tilting your head to the side at his tone.

"i apologize for my son," professor told you, "kenji, this is my assistant and she knows best about kaiju infants,"

i added, "because i've studied about them.my entire life. what they eat, their life cycle, the metamorph-"

"okay, okay, got it yeah," he waved you off in a hurry, his voice laced with impatience and worry.

you were about to snap when a pained squeal rang out and you leaned past him to sneak a peak, but ultraman obscured your view.

“dad, i’m not asking for pain, complaints, guilt, or criticism. not right now. i just-” he paused, struggling, “i need your help. both of you,” his head turned to you.

when he moved out of the way, you saw it, a gasp escaping your lips .

a baby kaiju lying on its back in the middle of the room, its head resting on ultraman’s knees while he held it down, rubbing its head. a red beam blinked under its skin, signaling its distress.

"wow," you gaped at the kaiju baby, following after professor sato.

“she was hurt, dad. we were attacked, i don’t know what to do. she got loose. i-i should’ve been there,” kenji rambled, guilt evident as he beat him up for what happened.

professor sato examined her, running a hand over a scales, “incredible,”

i held out my fist, metal plates slipping over your fingers and crawling up your arm till your elbow. you held out a hand, shooting a scanning bean from your fist to examine.

“you brought your warsuit?” ultraman asked in wonder. he knew about your identity and was hoping he’d run into you in one of the fights.

“just in case,” you shrugged, eyes on the anatomy chart you had pulled up in front of you as the holograph blinked on the arm of the kaiju, indicating the site of injury.

meanwhile, professor sato ran a chem analysis of the tranquilizer that had hit her.

"oh, hello mina," you greeted the ai when it floated towards you, “it’s been a long time,”

"indeed," mina responded, "you look well,"

"thanks,"

the kaiju baby whined in pain, squirming. you rested your metal palm on its tummy, easing your way up and down on its body, "shh, hey, hey- it's okay, we're gonna help you, baby, mkay?” you cooed.

the kaiju baby seemed to somewhat calm down at your words, its body still trembling.

“is it a he or she?” you asked, tapping and prodding her arm juncture.

“a she,” mina responded.

"she's beautiful," you looked up at her in awe, “professor, i suppose she has fracture. there’s fluid build-up in her elbow. mina, can u confirm?,”

“yes, she had a mid-humeral fracture with associated hematoma,” mina added.

the kaiju baby cried out again.

“it’s okay, you’re okay,” professor sato uttered softly caressing her arm.

mina was filling in the professor about the analysis of the tranquilizer while you got a closer look at the baby, running your metal hand over her palm.

her fist closed around your hand, the kaiju baby cooing slightly. your heart melted at the action.

“poor thing. does it hurt too much?” you reached to touch her arm where she got hurt, only for her to squeal in alarm.

“it’s okay,” kenji soothed, “she’s-” he stammered, looking at you now fully and taking in your appearance and feeling somewhat flustered, “she’s not gonna hurt you,”

you spared a glance at him, turning away, your face turning red at the mere sound of his voice. pathetic, you scolded yourself.

“can you synthesize a 100 ccs?” professor sato asked mina. 

“yes, professor,”

“good we’ll need more,”

 “more?!” kenji snapped, “for what?”

“kenji,” “you may not agree with me on anything else, but right now, i’m the best chance she has. and with y/n, it will be easier. so please, please just let me help,”

kenji glanced at you, agreeing, “okay,”

professor sato held up a ragged bunny in the air. the kaiju baby beamed at it.

“dad,” kenjis sighed in nostalgia, “bunny?”

“it always worked on you,” he placed it on the baby’s arm. he notched his walking stick between her shouler and arm, making sure it was right. i nodded in approval.

i placed my hand on the kaju baby’s palm, “hold her tight, kenji,”

two mechanical arms appeared from the ground, grabbing onto the baby’s arms.

taking a deep breath, you mumbled along with the lullaby mina played in the back and pushed her dislocated bone into place. kenji turned his head away to the side, unable to watch while the kaiju baby screeched in pain.

you sat by the stairs of the containment unit as the kaiju baby slept in it, snuggling a half-crushed car.

you were watching the footage of the kaiju baby loose in the streets, observing its movement, behaviour—

“hey,”

you slapped your watch shut and looked up at kenji, blinking, “hi,”

your eyes locked for a moment longer adn you both looked away, feeling bashful and flustered. 

you felt him sit on the stair beside you and rest his elbows on his knees, fiddling with his fingers nervously.

“so, uh, how are ya?” kenji turned to face you, his hair falling all over his forehead.

you bit back the urge to brush them back, “fine. so how’s life being a single mom with two jobs?” you teased, hoping to ease the tension.

kenji gave a small smile, his chest rumbling with a groan, “exhausting,”

“i can tell,” you noticed the fading dark circles under his eyes, the fatigue in the paleness of his skin.

“watching me that closely, sweetheart?” he tipped his head to the side, leaning forward a bit, his flirty tone showing up.

“you wish,” you rolled your eyes at him.

“it’s good to see you,” kenji spoke genuinely, “after the last time we met turned into-”

“oh dear god-” you sputtered, “don’t just don’t,”

“was it that bad?” he seemed offended that you were shutting out that incident so quickly, “was i that bad?”

“no, no, ken,” i laughed carelessly, missing the way a shy smile crept up kenji’s face at your sound, “its just that,” you tried to find the right words, “it was amazing, but the days after that, not so much. we-”

“-drifted apart,” kenji completed, understanding now.

"yeah,"

“i’ll just,” kenji jabbed his thumb to the couch area and walked towards it, muttering and scolding himself for being so clumsy and flustered around you.

you smiled at his back, watching him sit down. you turned back towards the containment unit, watching the kaiju baby snore away.

you crossed your legs, getting comfortable, "mina?"

"yes?" the ai floated towards you.

"give me everything you have on the kaiju baby. and you might wanna get filled in on the kaiju anatomy and life cycle info i have in my database," you held up your watch for her.

“sure thing,” a mechanical arm took it from you.

"and also, could i get a cup of coffee, with three-,"

a cup was thrust beside your face to hold. 

you looked up and saw kenji holding one for you, having one for himself, “three shots of espresso. just how you like it,”

surprised but touched, you accepted it with a kind nod, watching him walk back to his father.

he relaxed back, leaning into the couch and spreading his legs apart shamelessly, one arm resting on the head of the couch.

you lips parted at the sight.

kenji did a double take and caught you staring, a grin quirking his lips as he did so. it only widened as he saw how you fumbled and turned away from him, finding your reaction adorable.

he couldn't believe how captivating you were, and he knew he was in danger of losing himself to your charm. 

 the way your hair draped over your shoulder, only if he could wrap his fist around them and pull you flush against his back-

“pure thoughts, ken. pure thoughts,” he chided himself, his mind struggling to process the mental image it created.

he silently chastised himself for letting you slip through his fingers last time, but he knew that he couldn't ignore you any longer. 

as he looked at you, he felt his heart skip a beat and he couldn't help but sigh, "sweetheart..." knowing that you were too tempting for him to resist this time.

[ghost-bxrd]

okay so this is an idea I’ve seen brought up maybe once before, but maybe Jason (before the Bats find out who he is) accidentally lets something slip that makes them realize that he’s literally, like, a child (seventeen, sixteen, I’m not sure how old he is at that point exactly, but either works)

and Bruce “adoption addiction” Wayne promptly looks at this obviously traumatized teenager and decides that he should adopt Red Hood.

I just think Jason would be so confused (maybe a little pissed too)

I’ve touched on that a little bit in What you’re longing for (you claim to abhor)!

I think this trope is wayyy underrated. Like, Jason is still so, so young. Basically a child. Even if he died at sixteen and then spent two years with the league (even if we’re counting the time he spent dead as aging). He’s barely even legal when he returns to Gotham. Or if we’re being generous let’s say he’s nineteen.

Doesn’t matter, he’s barely out of his teens (maybe he’s still IN his teens if you bend the timeline of your fic a little) and he’s experienced horrors that would have most people become utterly unable to function. But Jason? That boy takes his trauma and channels it into anger. Which, not exactly healthy, but well.

Anyway, getting off topic:

YES. Jason is still basically a kid when he debuts as the Red Hood, and you know what else he is? A good boy who’s not gonna touch any alcohol until he’s officially 21.

“But why would he do that? He grew up in Crime Alley! Ain’t nobody got time for age limitations!”

Hear me out! Let’s assume he grew up in a household where his father, Willis Todd, drank quite a lot on the regular in addition to his mom’s addiction. Jason experienced the aftermath of this (perhaps domestic violence?) every time his dad returned from a job/jail and he grew to loathe any and all substances, including alcohol. Knowing Jason and his convictions it wouldn’t be too far fetched to assume he’d never touch a single drop of alcohol at all.

So that’s one way he could slip up while taking to his goons (and having the bats overhear) or even straight up talking to one of them where maybe Dick banters a bit and goes “Hey, perhaps you should chill out a bit. Have a drink maybe” and Jason just instinctively goes “Fuck you Dickwing, I’m seventeen/eighteen/nineteen! I’m not allowed to drink!”

And Dick just— bluescreens. And immediately goes to tell Bruce, obviously.

OR

The Bats assume Jason is this old guy (Bruce’s or Drathstroke’s age maybe) and consequently they keep alluding to things that happened way before Jason was ever even born and at first he’s so? Confused??? But eventually it just gets really annoying and eventually he just— snaps.

“How the fuck would I know which Nokia gen hit the market that year? I was born in fuckin’ XXXX, I’m an iPhone kid!”

“Stop referencing the Cold War dipshit, I’m fucking seventeen! I’m glad I remember my own damn birthday!”

“I don’t know, I was like— two back then.”

Bruce, obviously, would take .1 seconds to realize:

“Omg. That’s- that’s a whole child. That’s a whole damn TRAUMATIZED child, killing people and sawing off heads. Omg someone must have hurt him so bad. Don’t worry tho, son, Batman’s got you. You won’t have to hurt anybody ever again. We’re here for you. Would you like the room next to Tim’s or Dick’s?”

Meanwhile Jason: “what the fuck”

[incognit0slut]

Much Ado About Nothing (Act II, Scene II: The Crazy Idea)

After being cornered by your friends, you find yourself in an even more complicated position due to your impulsive decision.

Part warning: none, just my bad attempt at crack humor Words: 2.6k A/n: If you paid attention, I've been using his gifs from season 9 so the timeline is somewhere along there. And while writing half of this, I realized Emily wasn't even on that season, but for the sake of fanfiction and pure imagination, let's ignore the human error of this stupid author. Thank you. Let me know what you think!!

SERIES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

It took you exactly seven hours and fifteen minutes to finally gather the courage to head to Penelope's lair. The morning had been a blur of paperwork and reports, leaving you mentally drained and chained to your desk. But no matter how much work you plowed through, your mind kept drifting back to last night's disaster and how your friends had planned the whole thing.

Frustration wasn’t enough to describe how you felt. You found yourself gripping your pen so tightly it threatened to snap in your hand, and your fingers pounded the keyboard harder than necessary as you typed out reports.

Eventually, you found yourself daydreaming about ways to get back at them. You imagined a dozen different ways to plot your revenge, each more elaborate than the last, and although it provided a temporary sense of satisfaction, it wasn't enough. 

By the time you wrapped up your last report, your frustration had reached its peak. You decided you couldn't wait any longer. You headed to JJ's desk first, hoping to catch her and get some answers, but it was empty. With no sign of her anywhere and your patience wearing thin, there was only one other person who might have the answers you needed.

You made a beeline for Penelope’s office. The moment her door came into view, you knocked sharply and then entered without waiting for a response. You weren’t surprised when you found Penelope and JJ huddled over a monitor, their heads snapping up in sync at your abrupt entrance.

“There she is!” Penelope exclaimed, turning around in her chair. “We were just talking about you.”

“Oh, really?” you replied, crossing your arms. “I wonder what could possibly be so interesting about me.”

Penelope and JJ exchanged a quick look, barely suppressing their chuckles. 

“How did it go last night?”

You groaned at the memory. “I can’t believe you guys tricked me!”

JJ laughed and turned to you, her expression almost apologetic. “Look, we’re sorry, okay? We just thought it would be…” she looked over at Penelope, trying to come up for a word before settling with, “Fun.”

“Fun?” You exclaimed. “Manipulating your friends into awkward situations is your idea of fun?“

Penelope waved her hand dismissively. “It couldn't have been that bad. Did you guys talk it out?”

You stared at her pointedly as if the idea of you having that conversation with him was absurd.

“No.”

“Did he apologize for anything?”

“No.”

“Come on, there had to be some deep, meaningful conversation,” JJ chimed in, trying to hold back a grin.

You scoffed. “No.”

“Did he walk you home?”

“No—wait, yes, he did,” you admitted, recalling the memory. “But he complained the whole time about how inefficient my route was and how there were, and I quote, statistically shorter paths to my apartment.”

“How sweet of him,” Penelope observed, deciding to ignore the last part of your rant. Then she wiggled her eyebrows. “Did he lean in for a goodnight kiss?”

“What? No!” You sat on the only empty chair in the room, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. “Nothing happened.”

“Did he at least say something sweet when he walked you home?” Penelope prodded, trying to dig deeper.

You shook your head, a resigned sigh escaping you. “No, because it was nothing like that. We talked, we ate, he walked me home. That’s it.”

“Sounds like the start of something to me.”

“Totally the start of something,” Penelope nodded enthusiastically.

You rolled your eyes. “There’s nothing to start because we can’t even stand each other.”

“Well you know what they say,” Penelope sang. “There’s a thin line between love and hate.”

You narrowed your eyes at her, trying not to show how unnerving her assumptions were. "That's ridiculous."

“But he walked you home,” she pointed out.

“So?”

“So that’s got to be something,” JJ joined in. “Spencer’s not exactly known for going out of his way unless he wants to.”

“He was just being polite,” you insisted, feeling cornered. “He walked me home because my apartment was on the way to his place.”

Penelope tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Hmm, on his way, or making a way?”

You pinched the bridge of your nose, feeling a headache brewing. “That doesn’t even make sense.”

“Maybe he’s being subtle about it,” JJ suggested, trying to sound reasonable. “He’s not that forward when it comes to expressing his feelings.”

“No, guys, it wasn’t anything like that,” you insisted, your voice rising slightly in frustration as your eyes moved between the two of them. The room felt smaller with each passing second, the walls closing in as they stared at you expectantly. They were enjoying this way too much.

“Oh, but it could be,” Penelope persisted. “You’re both single, smart, attractive people who spend a lot of time together.”

“You two are unbelievable.”

“It’s okay, you can tell us,” she continued, her voice softer now as she reached out to pat your hand. “We’re your friends, and if there’s something more, we’d love to support you.”

“Or if you prefer to keep it a secret, we won’t tell anyone.”

“Exactly. You can trust us. We’re really good at keeping secrets.”

“So good.”

“So good.”

Your patience snapped, frustration and pressure boiling over. “Fine! Yes! We’re going on another date!” You blurted out, the lie spilling out in a moment of desperation before you could stop. “Happy now?”

Silence fell over the room as Penelope and JJ stared at you, stunned. Then slowly, realization dawned on their faces, and a chorus of excited squeals filled the air.

“Oh, I knew it!” Penelope exclaimed, clapping her hands in delight.

JJ grinned at you. “Really?”

The weight of your words hit you like a cold splash of water.

What had you just done?

“This is so exciting!” Penelope gushed, her enthusiasm mounting. Then she turned to you. “Why didn’t you say anything earlier?”

You suddenly felt a wave of panic. You scanned their faces, seeing only genuine excitement and curiosity, no hint of doubt and discomfort swelling inside you. How could you explain that there was nothing to tell because there was no second date? That it was just a knee-jerk reaction to their relentless teasing? You couldn't possibly confess now, not without making everything infinitely worse.

But how were supposed to tell him? The idea of deceiving not just your friends but also involving Spencer in this lie made you feel sick. The room seemed to spin as you tried to come up with some way to ease the damage.

“I... I wanted it to be a surprise?” You managed to say, although the words sounded more like a question. Your lie felt hollow even to your own ears, but Penelope and JJ seemed to buy it, nodding and exchanging excited glances.

“This is going to be amazing,” Penelope said, practically bouncing in her chair. “So when’s the next date?”

Your mind raced. For there to be a next date, even a pretend one, you needed to talk to him. The realization hit you hard, the full weight of the lie you'd just created sinking in. You'd have to involve him in this deception and the thought made you feel queasy. You imagined the awkward conversation, the look of confusion—and likely frustration—on his face. This was going to be a mess.

You opened your mouth, then closed it, scrambling for a response. “Uh, soon. I-I’ve got to go talk to him about it, actually.”

Penelope’s eyes lit up even more. “Oh, planning it together! That’s so sweet!”

You forced a smile, slowly rising from your seat. “Yeah, super sweet,” you mumbled, your voice barely steady. You could feel your cheeks burning as you stumbled over your lies. “I, uh, better go find him now.”

Without waiting for a response, you bolted out of the room, your heart pounding in your chest. You mentally kicked yourself with every step. You had let them get to you, allowing their teasing to push you into this mess. You couldn’t believe you had let yourself get caught up in this lie.

You paused in the hallway, briefly considering turning back and telling them the truth. The thought lingered for a moment, the idea of ending this charade before it spiraled further out of control. But you quickly shook your head, knowing that backtracking now would only make things worse. You could already imagine how unbearable the teasing and explanations would be.

No, you’ve gone too far to back out now.

Continuing down the hallway, your steps quickened as you searched for him. You finally spotted him by the pantry, absentmindedly pouring too much sugar into his coffee. You walked up to him and leaned against the counter, watching him stir his coffee with more force than necessary.

“I did something stupid,” you blurted out, catching his attention. He looked up before glancing back down at his cup.

“Why am I not surprised?”

“No, listen.” You leaned in closer, lowering your voice. “It’s about last night.”

He finally looked at you, eyebrows raised, clearly surprised as to why you would bring up anything from last night.

“What about last night?” He asked, bringing his cup to his lips.

The words tumbled out in a rush. “I was with JJ and Garcia, and they were teasing me about us, how we supposedly have this… thing going on now. I couldn’t take it anymore. So…” You watched him take a sip of his coffee. “…I told them we’re going on another date.”

He choked, the drink catching in his throat. Coughing, he set the cup down with a sharp clatter, his eyes watering slightly as he regained his composure.

“You told them what?”

“I didn’t know what else to do!” You rushed to explain. “They wouldn’t stop pushing and I just wanted them to shut up. I thought if I said something like that, they’d just leave me alone. But now they expect details, and I… I need your help.”

He took a deep breath, trying to process what you were asking of him. “Let me get this straight. You, of all people, told them we’re going on another date, knowing full well how we—” He paused, searching for the right words. “How we don’t get along. And now you want me to help you keep up this lie?”

You nodded, and he called out your name in frustration.

"Last night wasn't even a date!”

“I know! The words just… came out.” When you saw him shake his head disapprovingly, you let out a groan. “I’m not thrilled about it either, okay? But I’m kind of… desperate here.”

Spencer took another sip of his coffee, his eyes never leaving yours. After a moment, he set the cup down, gripping it in his hand.

“No.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “No?”

“No,” he confirmed before turning around, walking back to his desk. “I’m not going to help you.”

You shuffled along, trying to match his pace. “Why not? This could actually get them to stop.”

“Do you even hear yourself? This is crazy. You can’t just spin lies and drag me into them because you want to avoid a little teasing,” he retorted, sitting down and starting to shuffle through some papers on his desk, clearly trying to end the conversation.

“It’s not a little teasing! They’re relentless,” You pressed, leaning against his desk. “Come on, don’t you ever get tired of them trying to set us up?”

“That doesn’t mean I’m going to pretend to date you. What’s next? A fake wedding?”

“Don’t be dramatic. We just need to show up together a couple of times, act mildly interested in each other, and then we can break up. We fake it, we tell them it didn’t work out, and we move on. It’s simple.”

“Of course, because nothing says ‘simple’ like faking an entire relationship.”

You crossed your arms and took a deep, calming breath. “Look, I know it’s not the greatest plan, but can you think of a better way to get them off our backs?”

Spencer stared at you, his eyes narrowing as he considered your words. “You realize you’re trying to deceive a team of profilers, right?”

He had a point, but you weren’t about to back down. “Wasn’t this your whole idea in the first place?”

“My idea was for us to act like we get along, not pretend that we’re in love.”

“It doesn’t even have to be convincing,” you argued, leaning in slightly. “Just enough to make them back off for a while. Besides, if you start laying it on too thick, they’ll never believe it. They know you don’t have much experience to begin with.”

Spencer looked offended, his brows knitting together. “I have experience,” he countered. “Just because I’m not flaunting it doesn’t mean I’m completely clueless.”

“Oh, yeah? When was the last time you were in a relationship?”

The words slipped out of your mouth before you could stop yourself, and when you noticed the sudden change in his demeanor, you realized what you had just implied. There was a tensed pause as you both stared at each other. You both knew the answer to that question, and you both knew you were treading dangerous territory.

But before either of you could break the silence, a voice cut through the tension. “What are you two lovebirds fighting about now?”

You turned to see Derek standing by his own desk, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. And then you saw it, an opportunity. If Spencer wasn’t going to agree to help willingly, you were going to take matters into your own hands.

You straightened your shoulders and faced Derek. “We need to tell you something.”

Spencer sensed what you were about to do and quickly stood up. “Wait—“

“Reid and I are dating.”

You heard Spencer take a sharp inhale. There was no turning back. The nerves in your stomach tightened, but you decided to ignore it and focus your attention on Derek instead. His eyes widened in surprise, looking between the two of you.

“You’re serious?”

“Yes,” you said firmly, crossing your arms and standing your ground, while Spencer remained silent beside you, his expression unreadable. “We decided to give it a shot.”

“At dating? As in romantically?”

“I don’t think there’s another way to describe it.”

Derek stared at you both for a moment longer, then his shock gave way to a broad grin. “Finally.” He let out an amused laugh “Took you two long enough.”

He approached with a playful swagger, clapping Spencer on the shoulder and ruffling your hair, which you quickly swatted away. “Can’t say that I’m surprised, but congratulations.”

Spencer looked at you, and you glanced back at him. Derek, oblivious to the tension between you two, grinned widely.

“I guess all that tension was just unresolved passion, huh?”

Your eyes snapped at him. “Morgan!”

“Alright, alright.” He raised his hands in mock surrender, still wearing a broad smile. “I’m just happy for you both. Seriously.”

You stared at him, bracing yourself for more teasing, perhaps a joke about what supposedly happened last night, or worse, something embarrassingly inappropriate. But to your surprise, Derek didn’t press further. Instead, he simply nodded with a genuine smile and returned to his desk, resuming his work.

You and Spencer stood there, dumbfounded, not quite sure how to process the sudden shift. You both were so used to his relentless teasing that his quick exit left you momentarily speechless.

You slightly leaned towards him as you continued to stare at Derek hunched over his desk.

“Do you hear that noise?” You whispered.

“What noise?”

“Exactly. This is the sound of peace,” you replied with a slight grin, turning back to Spencer. “See? This is already working. If we keep this up, we can finally get them off our backs.”

“I still think this is a bad idea,” he muttered, giving you a pointed look.

“Do you have a better plan?” you challenged, raising an eyebrow. “Because I’m all ears if you do.”

Spencer sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. He studied you for a moment, his eyes searching your face as if weighing the pros and cons. “I can’t believe I’m even considering this…” He trailed off, looking genuinely conflicted. “This is going to backfire, you know that, right?”

Sure, he could be right, but at the same time, you believed this plan was harmless. It seemed like a simple solution: a fake relationship played out convincingly enough to appease your friends. It was supposed to be straightforward—an act, a performance without real consequences. Nothing could go wrong if you controlled the narrative.

You finally looked up at him. “Don’t worry,” you said, trying to sound confident. “It won’t.”

But as the words left your mouth, you realized, you weren't entirely convinced.

[loving-family-poll]

Ultimate Incest Tournament - Semifinals

Propaganda under the cut:

Sam/Dean:

I'm sorry but they have it all. children of metaphorical incest just continuing the cycle in any way they can. they are brothers and mother + son and wives and each other's scorned lovers and life partners they've had multiple infidelity arcs they are sexually psychopathic together they have forsook life and morality and the earth itself for each other and just love each other so much . They are literally in a heaven of their own making together for eternity, incestuously. Come on!!! Blueprint!!!!! It's not gay if he's your brother!!!!!

dean did stuff to sam's dead body in ahbl. i just know it

Messed-up, isolated sibs with all the daddy and abandonment issues. Their lives are so claustrophobic with the brothers no more than five feet apart in the car, a motel room, or standing next to civilians (face it, they are frigging magnets). Can't leave out that they are always touching each other to check for wounds which is a huge PLUS for any shipper.

Sam and Dean ARE literally the blowjob brothers. They walk into a situation and everyone goes well well well if it isn't the blowjob brothers....... And they say. Yep. That's us. And then they fix the situation with their epic love story

THE classic, iconic, show shopping, never done before etc. etc. incest ship. It changed fandom and it changed the world

Dave/Rose:

Daverose blondetwin sweep because they were codependent without ever meeting from growing up seeing each other in their dreams

What does it mean to be an abused teenage boy growing up alone and seeing a girl in your dreams every night who is also your best friend. and when you finally meet her you go on a suicide mission together even though nobody was asking you to die with her. and then you are the only two human beings left in the recognizable universe on a cold meteor surrounded by aliens but you’re glad it’s with her. and when you finally touch the girl from your childhood dreams she looks exactly like you. because she’s your sister

I don't have words for how good these snarky assholes are together. DaveRose is brain chemistry changing. They both put up so many fronts, and engage in so much snarky wordplay, and are constantly trying to get under each other's facade. They play off each other so well, witty and sharp, I need them to be together always

We all die & we all die alone are the two cold truths of the universe but dave and rose broke both simultaneously by ascending to godhood together

Their twincest wins because it is just so confusingly tragic? profound? dave leaving rose behind in a doomed world, dave following her to the bomb. they are both so closed & cut off & curt its hard to imagine the depth of these things. but that is their love language: giving up their lives for each other over and over, in a confusing and fumbling and heartfelt love song. i can’t say i love you but i know we’ll die together anyway. because we’re made of the exact same stuff. i’ll find you again at the last moment. that’s love.

THEY DIED TOGETHER, YOUR HONOR

Confirmed canon by the author, (something happened) between them. Parallels of dying by each other's sides in EVERY timeline. They are THE womb-to-tomb. There is nothing platonic about winking at your brother while talking about crushes, that shit is incestuous. Seer/Knight archetype. They will die protecting each other.

do you realize love someone if you don’t follow them on a suicide mission into the gaping maw of a literal fucking sun after they knock you out and psychoanalyze you in your dreams? the blueprint of the “ethereal androgynous blonde boygirl twins” trope. witch/knight dynamics. they find each other to die together in every timeline no matter what (but they’re still emotionally constipated teenagers who bicker and make fun of each other in pesterchum). kids with grown-up powers. perfect little freaks of nature. what if we looked exactly like each other’s eyes

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Who Taught You How to Love Like That? - Chapter Two

Pairing: Modern!Aemond Targaryen x female character (third person) Warnings: Sugar daddy/sugar baby dynamics. Word count: ~2.8k Series masterlist

Chapter summary: Alicent's birthday dinner proves to be eventful in more ways than one.

Author's note: No gods, no masters, no tag lists. Only scabs community label fics. If you find yourself tempted to slap a label on this, please block me instead.

She flops down onto the sofa next to her flatmate, once safely back inside, huffing a dramatic sigh and replaying in her mind the mortifying moment that Aemond refused her kiss.

Mysaria takes out her earphones and closes her laptop, turning to her with a smirk. “So, sugar baby, how was your evening?”

“Shit.” She shoots back, dipping a hand into the open crisp bag that sits between them and taking a few.

“Let me guess, didn’t look anything like his picture?”

She shakes her head, speaking around a mouthful of crisps. “Exactly like his picture. I tried to kiss him and he said no.”

“Sounds like a win to me.” Mysaria says with a shrug. “If you can get away with not doing that sorta stuff and still get the money then you absolutely should.”

She sighs. Therein lies the problem, with Aemond she wants to do that sort of stuff.

The rest of the weekend passes by uneventfully, with no further word from Aemond, no matter how hard she wills for it as she stares at their existing text chain.

She has to suppress a strangled sounding squeal on Monday when he texts her while she’s at work. Her hand flies to her phone the moment she sees his name light up her screen with a buzz.

Are you working today?

She is almost embarrassed at the speed with which she replies.

I am. Why?

She feels her breath hitch as his response comes instantly.

I’ll swing by at lunch time.

She’s unable to concentrate for the rest of the morning, too nervous to focus on anything other than the fact that she’ll be seeing Aemond in a few hours. The time passes painfully slowly and she feels as though she’s anxiously drummed her fingers on every available surface until finally it’s noon.

She spots him in the foyer as she heads downstairs. He is instantly recognisable; taller than almost everyone, the top half of his pale hair is pulled back from his face in a bun, while the rest hangs loose around his shoulders. His fitted black shirt is rolled up to the elbows and paired with a well tailored pair of suit trousers and expensive looking dress shoes.

He gives her his subtle trademark smirk when he sees her and she immediately feels self conscious under the intensity of his gaze.

“Thanks for giving up your lunch break for me.” He says after she’s greeted him. “I figured it would make our story more believable if I’d actually seen you at work. We’re bound to get asked questions at dinner on Wednesday.”

“Oh…sure, no problem.” She feels herself deflate a little upon hearing that this isn’t a visit because he simply wants to see her.

“I brought you a little something, guessing you haven’t had lunch yet?”

He hands her a thick, white box that has ‘Cédric Grolet’ inscribed in gold lettering. It’s a bakery she’s read about in Time Out Magazine, but never visited. In her opinion, anyone willing to spend six pounds on a croissant has more money than sense. She opens the box, her eyebrows raising in surprise as she looks at the delicate pastry inside.

“You brought me a custard tart.” She meets his eye with a grin.

Aemond scoffs. “Parisian flan, actually.”

“Thank you.” Her cheeks heat up as she holds his gaze. “I’ll eat this later. Don’t want to risk it around the exhibits.”

He nods, a mixture of amusement and something she can’t quite place evident in his eye as he looks at her. “Shall we then?” He gestures for her to lead the way.

She guides him around the museum and she is impressed with the depth of his knowledge as he tells her what he knows regarding Ancient Egypt and Greek history. Likewise, he pays rapt attention when she explains the timeline of the Vikings and Saxons, asking relevant questions and nodding enthusiastically as she answers.

For the first time in a long time she feels genuinely listened to when she speaks about the subject she’s so fiercely passionate about. It’s nice to have someone take an interest. The conversation flows easily and all too quickly an hour slips by.

“I should let you get back to work.” Aemond tells her, pulling his phone from his pocket and checking the time. “I need to get back to Vhagar anyway.”

“Vhagar?”

“Yeah.” Aemond says, and for the first time since they met, his face lights up with genuine happiness. “She’s my doberman. She’s getting on a bit, so I try not to leave her with the dog walker for too long if I can help it.”

She feels herself melt a little at this admission. As if he wasn’t already perfect, he was an animal lover to top it all off.

He’s quick to compose himself, clearing his throat and returning to his stoic demeanour. “Anyway, I’ll pick you up at six on Wednesday, okay?”

She nods and they wave goodbye to each other. She heads back to work, a slight spring in her step for having seen Aemond. She can’t believe how much they have in common, smiling to herself as she wonders when she’ll get to meet Vhagar.

She’s brought crashing back to reality when her phone buzzes with a text from Aemond.

For working through your lunch break.

It’s immediately followed by a notification from her banking app. A one thousand pound deposit from A. Targaryen.

She knows she should feel elated by the money, but it’s a sobering reality check. He’s not your boyfriend, this is transactional.

When she arrives home from work on Wednesday afternoon, she is overwhelmed by the idea of having to get ready for Alicent’s birthday dinner. There is no way she can reuse the dress from Jace and Baela’s engagement party, and everything else in her wardrobe feels far too casual for a family as high end as the Targaryens.

She’s distracted momentarily when she catches sight of a package sitting on the kitchen side.

“Parcel on the side for you!” Mysaria calls out from her bedroom.

“I see it, thanks!” She shouts back, working to remove the packaging.

Inside is a Cartier box, with a note; ‘Would really like you to wear this to dinner - A.’

“Well, then, what is it?” Mysaria asks, creeping up behind her and resting her head on her shoulder. “It arrived this morning and I’ve resisted the temptation to open it all day!”

She gasps as she opens the box. A white gold necklace inlaid with diamonds, and a single sapphire at its center, rests inside.

Mysaria lets out a low whistle. “You could sell that and put down a deposit on a bloody house!”

She rolls her eyes. “I think he intends for me to wear it, not sell it. But what the fuck am I going to put it with? It’s going to look like I’ve put tinsel on shit!”

An hour later, having rummaged through Mysaria’s wardrobe, she’s finally ready, having paired a long sleeved, silky button down top with a faux leather skirt. Simple enough for a casual dinner, yet dressy enough to compliment the completely over the top jewelry that now sits around her neck.

Aemond arrives and is ever the gentleman, opening the passenger side door for her as she climbs into his car. Her eyes linger a little too long on the way his expertly tailored suit hugs his body. Thankfully, his attention is focused entirely on her throat, so he doesn’t notice.

“Necklace looks good.” He says buckling his seatbelt. “We’ll have to do something at some point about the rest of it though.”

Her mouth gapes open in shock. “What’s wrong with my outfit?!”

He reaches across, rubbing the material of her top between his thumb and forefinger. “Polyester.”

The touch of his fingers in such close proximity to her skin makes her feel so light headed that she can’t find it in herself to be offended. Wordlessly, he starts the car.

“So, I should brief you on what you’re getting into before we arrive.” Aemond glances over at her as he drives. “It's my mother's birthday. She won’t have cooked, she never does; she’ll have ordered Thai food. Her partner, Criston, will be there, so will my brother, Aegon, and my sister, Helaena. There’ll also be my half sister, Rhaenyra.”

She doesn’t miss how Aemond tenses up as he speaks of Rhaenyra. She can’t help but feel panicked at how intimate of an affair this will be, especially as this is only her second date with Aemond, if date is even the right word for it.

“What about the rest of your family that were at the engagement party?”

“Most of the people there were not anyone I’d consider family. My grandfather’s away on business and ‘Nyra knows better than to bring her boys. Mum won’t want them there. None of us do.”

The grip that Aemond has on the steering wheel tightens and his jaw clenches. She decides not to push the subject any further, it’s clearly a touchy one and she simply doesn’t know him well enough to pry. The rest of the drive passes in silence.

The townhouse they pull up outside of is lavish, a blanket of green ivy covers the outside. Aemond is quick to take her hand as they walk up the path to the front door. Her heart races at the feel of it, and she has to battle to remind herself that it’s all for show.

Alicent gives them both a warm welcome, pulling them into a tight hug with a kiss on both cheeks. She looks radiant as ever as she leads them through to a large dining room, with a long mahogany table at the center of it.

Helaena jumps up as soon as she sees them, giving them both a hug, while Aegon opts to remain seated, making a mock salute as he takes a swig from his beer bottle.

Aemond was right about the Thai food, as Criston enters shortly after they arrive, carrying several paper bags from a place called Patara and places them in the middle of the table.

Aemond pulls out a chair for her and she takes a seat, her eyes fluttering closed involuntarily as he presses his lips to her temple. A shiver runs through her.

“Get me a fork, would you, Hel? I’ll be here all fucking night trying to eat with chopsticks.” Aegon says, leaning forward to rummage in a bag.

“It’s Thai food, you eat it with a spoon, not chopsticks!” Helaena shoots back.

“That’s not a fork though, is it?” He rolls his eyes exasperatedly, pulling out tubs and setting them down. “Get me a fork!”

“Get your own fork, dick.” She fires back.

“Will you two stop it?!” Alicent hisses. “I just want one family dinner without an argument. Rhaenyra isn’t even here yet, stop opening the food. Aegon!”

She hurries from the room as the doorbell rings.

The mood around the table shifts. She notices Aemond rubbing his fingers together absentmindedly, his teeth grinding ever so slightly. Without thinking, she reaches over and takes his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. He squeezes back, shooting her an appreciative look.

Rhaenyra sweeps into the room, looking glamorous. Her long, light hair is pulled into an intricate braid and a pair of teardrop ruby earrings hang delicately from her lobes.

“Apologies for my lateness.” She says with a tight smile. “Difficult to be on time when you have to make separate dinner plans for the side of the family that aren’t welcome.”

“Oh god, she’s started already.” Drawls Aegon. “Come on, who had ‘as soon as she arrives’ in the sweepstake for when ‘Nyra would start her bitching?”

“Aegon!” Alicent scolds him, her brown eyes widened with anger. Her face softens as she turns back to Rhaenyra. “Ignore him, I’m so pleased you could make it.”

The two women exchange a warm embrace before taking their seats.

The meal passes in relative high spirits, in spite of its awkward start. Expensive red wine is shared around the table, as they all dig into dishes of soft shell crab mango salad, chicken massaman and vegetable pad thai. 

Alicent asks her more about her line of work, while Aemond interjects that he’d dropped by to surprise her with lunch. This little anecdote is met with excited coos from both his mother and sister.

He plays the part of attentive boyfriend perfectly. Dishing out food onto her plate, feeding her from his fork and placing his hand on her knee at regular intervals. The longer it goes on for, the more difficult it becomes for her to remember that it’s all an act. The way her body responds to his touch is certainly not for show, however; there is no pretending when it comes to the gooseflesh left in the wake of his hand on her skin.

As the meal is drawing to its end, Rhaenyra sits back in her chair, running her fingers along the stem of her wine glass. “So, I was planning on making a gift of Dragonstone Cottage to Jace and Baela, since they’ll be needing a place to live together once they’re married.”

“That’s not yours to give away.” Aemond tells her, staring at her with an intensity that’s almost frightening.

“Father didn’t name an owner in his will. Technically, as first born, everything goes to me.” She says with an offhand shrug.

“That’s such bullshit!” Aegon seethes, over the rim of his glass.

“Don’t.” Criston warns. “You’ll upset your mother.”

“Maybe this is best talked about another time.” Alicent says, shooting an apologetic look around the table.

“That’s the problem though, isn’t it, Mum? You never want to talk about it and she always gets her own way, just like when Dad was alive.” Aegon says, his voice raising an octave with every word.

“Oh, I think you’ve gotten far more than what is owed to you.” Rhaenyra glares at him.

Aemond slams his fist on the table, causing everyone to startle. He stands abruptly, storming from the room.

She isn’t sure of where to look, she has never felt more uncomfortable in her entire life than she does right now. The atmosphere around the dinner table is horribly strained and she is suddenly glad of the opportunity to play up to her part of concerned girlfriend in order to get away from it.

“I’ll…um…I’ll just go and see where he’s gone.” She says shakily, eager to get away from the sour, sullen faces that now surround her.

She finds Aemond stood outside in the back garden, leaning against the railing of the patio decking as he smokes a cigarette.

“I didn’t know you smoked.”

“I don’t.” He responds, taking another drag.

“Anything in there that you wanted to talk about?” She offers meekly.

“I don’t pay you enough for that.” He sighs.

Her face falls slightly at this. Each reminder of what their relationship really is is like a punch to the gut. She leans against the railing, placing her hand next to his.

“Whatever it is, I’m sorry. If you ever do need to talk though, I’m happy to listen.”

Aemond flicks the cigarette away, crushing it under foot. “I just…just once it would be nice to feel appreciated.”

“I appreciate you.” She tells him honestly, her little finger stroking over his as she stares up at him.

His face softens as he looks down at her and for the first time since she stepped outside she feels like he is seeing her, really seeing her. His hand moves from the railing to brush her hair away from her face and as his eye moves from hers to her lips, she leans up and presses them to his. This time he doesn’t stop her.

He tastes of cigarettes and red wine, it’s a heady combination, intensified by the plushness of his lips. All too soon, he is pulling away, breathing heavily.

“I’m sorry. We shouldn’t have done that.” He admits.

“But I wanted to.” She pleads earnestly.

He wraps his arms around her then, one hand clutching desperately between her shoulder blades, as the other buries itself in her hair. He kisses her like he is a man starved of oxygen and he needs her to breathe. She whimpers as she feels his tongue work itself against her own. Nobody has ever kissed her like this before, it makes her head swim and heat lick at her lower belly.

“Go to dinner with me on Friday.” He says breathlessly, once their lips part. “Just me and you.”

“I’d love to.” She whispers.

[claraswritings]

I love Can I be the one- for Luca’s timeline, how do you think he’d propose? Would it be quick as they’re childhood friends or would he want the slow dating first?

omg so I have this in my head that although you didn’t get together for a while, that boy has been SO IN LOVE with you for ages that he does it quick but still romantic and cute af,

BLURB BTC 🩷

Luca never thought he’d have this…perfect life. Dream job, beautiful city, with his best friend now girlfriend.

From the day you’d landed back in Copenhagen and you’d confessed you were in love with each other, he’d slept in your room over looking the canal with you beside him. You’d spend nights tangled up in each other and in the mornings, he’d kiss you goodbye, and leave you sleeping, some delicious breakfast ready made for you. You in return would have something ready for him coming in and it was so…easy to go from best friends to boyfriend and girlfriend. The pair of you had even got matching tattoos. ‘I love you’ in each others writing just above your hearts.

No other woman came close. He’d had short term girlfriends before. Nothing that had lasted past a few months given he was so obviously in love with you. You felt the same as you told him on one occasion when you’d been having a slow, lazy make out in bed.

“What?” Luca said sweetly, pushing your hair back and kissing your lips.

“Just… why did I put up with all those disappointing dates and boyfriends when I could have been doing this…” you pulled him in for another kiss, lingering gently, pressing your forehead to his. “with you. My gorgeous, kind, sweet, loving best friend who was right in the next room.” You traced your hand down his strong bicep “I mean fucking hell, we’re stupid aren’t we.”

Luca laughed. “We’re making up for it now, my love”

Maybe it was stupid that the two of you had been friends for years, well over a decade and a half before he’d made the move but now that you were together, it seemed like it was always this way, like you’d always been a couple. He’d often had to remind himself that although you’d always been together, you hadn’t actually been together that long.

Not that it mattered. You knew him. He knew you. That was what mattered.

Luca, had he got his way, would have driven you both to the town hall on the way back from the airport.

****

“Remember our first week here?” Luca asked as you walked hand in hand along the canal. “You loved that boat.”

It was a cool, breezy evening in Copenhagen and you’d decided to go for a walk. It had already become a thing for you both to go for walks through the city exploring different areas and towns with it. You always loved visiting towns but he enjoyed it even more knowing you’d cuddle up to him as you walked, and he’d never get over seeing your hand interlocked with his.

You nodded and squeezed onto his arm. “Yeah,I remember, half our stuff was in storage and you were so worried about fucking up that you made that compressed watermelon and coconut sorbet every single morning. The whole boat was covered in coconut.”

Luca laughed at your teasing “I swear we were finding shredded coconut everywhere for weeks”

You smiled up at him and lifted his hand to kiss his knuckles“you know I think that’s why I use coconut body scrub now, I think I’ve got like weirdly attached to it”

Luca dipped his head down to kiss you “you know i appreciate it”

“Well when my boyfriend comes home smelling like fruit or chocolate or some sort of essence every day, I gotta do my bit too” you quipped back

“I’ll never get tired of that.” Luca kissed you again “you calling me your boyfriend.” he repeated and broke into a smile and playfully poked you in the side “And getting to call you my girlfriend”

He only hoped you couldn’t tell how nervous he was.

****

Luca had taken you to Geranium, a three Michelin star restaurant in the city that evening. He’d told you it was because one of his sous chefs had left to take over as the new CDC and wanted to check out the competition. Which was partially true. He could never lie to you, not wholly.

So he’d called in a favour. A private table in a quiet part of the restaurant, a twelve course tasting menu that he’d quietly provided some off the clock advice on to ensure that each course tailor made to an event in your lives together both as friends or as a couple.

A pasta dish with parma ham which reminded him of when you’d bought an entire leg of it one day in Venice and you’d ate so much of it that Luca had started to wonder if he’d have to start using it in a dessert. Now that would be a challenge.

A fine dining version of a pesto chicken dish that had been one of your beloved air fryer specials. You’d let out such a loud laugh at that.

A lemon and wasabi rice course as a reminder of when you’d dared him to eat a whole jar of it when you were both 18.

A passionfruit mousse and white chocolate course to remind you of the first meal you’d had together when you’d stayed in Rotterdam.

All through the meal he was trying to just force the words out. Maybe he could be the cheesy guy that put the ring in your champagne as a course of seared venison with pistachio puree was brought out… a reminder of your first meal as a couple or he could discreetly pass it under the table to be hidden in the strawberry, mint and elderflower dessert…the flavours the same as the ice cream you’d ordered when you went on a park walk one day but he held off.

He knew how he wanted to ask you.

****

As you continued your evening walk along the canal, past shops and cafes open but quiet, you could see the small boat moored in, the first place you’d lived in the city, just over the other side of a beautiful bridge.

You let out an excited gasp. It was decked out with lights. Little did you know it was due to a favour Luca had called in with the owner. He’d traded prestige reservations for this.

“Luca, Look at how beautiful it is with the lights” you leant on his shoulder “Is it weird I kinda miss it? I know it’s small and has a ghost cat” you joked “but it was special”

“I do too.” Luca nodded agreeing with your sentiment. “It was where I first realised I wanted to be here permanently…” he paused and brushed his hair back from his face with his fingers “not on the boat but I mean in Copenhagen.”

“I know what you mean,” you smiled. “The city…it just suits us doesn’t it”.

It wasn’t like you could make sense of it. You’d lived in several countries and cities but it was here you felt most at home. You’d spend quiet weekends exploring sights in local towns or walking and trying new food or finding local gardens to sit in where you could read together and sharing whatever pastries Luca had brought home that week. Maybe you loved it for the happiness and peace it brought him.

Luca felt the same. He’d always wanted to be head pastry chef at a Michelin starred restaurant and getting to do it here was even better. It gave him a calm he never knew he could have. It was like he’d found peace, where he was meant to be and who he was meant to be with. Everything finally made sense for him.

“you don’t get better than noma do you?” You nudged him slightly “still so proud of you, my babe.”

He grinned, a faint blush appearing, which you found even sweeter. “I love you” he says simply, looking at you adoringly. His hands around your waist, his head dipped to look in your eyes.

“You’re so cute, Luca” You stopped mid walk to give him a brief kiss, lingering softly. “I love you”

“Are you happy here?” He asked you, brushing your hair back and cupping your face to kiss you again.

“Never been happier.” You said.

“Every day I keep thinking this is a dream…” he stopped “I still can’t believe you chose me.” He said and kissed you again. He meant it. If you’d packed up and went home or to Chicago, he wouldn’t have blamed you. He’d have been devasted. He’d have done anything he could to change your mind but he’d have never blamed you.

“It was easy to chose you Luca” you grinned and he broke into a smile, you always did that. Reassured him how much you loved him. “We’re meant for each other…”

“Yes, we are” he kissed you deeply. “You fancy staying on the boat for a night, my love? For old times sake?” He suggested dipping into his pocket and holding up the keys with his hand.

****

Luca had picked out the ring a month ago but he’d known what one he’d want to get you forever.

It was custom made and from a small independent jewellers that you always stopped to look in the window of. He’d had one of the traditional messages you’d left him engraved on the inside and designed it so it was just your style.

As you began to walk across the bridge, you stopped to take a photo of the pretty canal and the boat lit up illuminated by the gentle haze of the lights and the hum of the city backdrop. You slipped your phone back into your bag and paused savouring the image, looking around as if you were trying to memorise it.

Taking a deep breath, Luca knew this was his opportunity, he got down on one knee atop the bridge and waited for you to turn.

“Luca?” You turned a second later, noticing he wasn’t behind you. As your eyes landed on him, he could see you carefully scanning him, assessing what was going on. “Luca what are you doing?”

“I know we haven’t been together as a couple for long. But we have been together forever.” Luca tried to keep his voice steady, letting out an exhale “It’s always been Luca and [Name]. I am the man I am because you love me. I want to spend every day making you as happy as you make me”

He opened the ring box and your jaw dropped

“I love you so much. I have always loved you, I will always love you. I never needed anyone like I need you. You’re everything to me, will you do me the honour of calling you my wife?”

“Oh my god” was the first thing you said as you took a step towards him. “Oh my god Luca!”

“So is that a yes?” Luca rose an eyebrow, the smallest smile on his face.

“Absolutely it’s a yes.” You felt yourself about to well up as he got up, took the ring outfit and slipped it over your ring finger. “Yes. It’s a million percent a yes”

Luca kissed your knuckles and then the inside of your wrist and then your lips. “Thank you”

He linked your hands together and pulled you into his side and as you found your way to the boat, he lifted you up into a bridal carry.

“Fancy letting me carry you over the threshold, my future wife?”

“We’re not married yet” you laughed “but sure nothing wrong with practice” you kissed him “I love you my Luca”

“I love you.” He said before planting a kiss on your lips and squeezing you “and I can think of one more thing we can practice”

Luca winked and you laughed at his line

“Well you know I can’t resist that” and pulled him in for another kiss before he carried you onto the boat to celebrate your engagement.

[goldensunset]

so like. what is majora's mask about (is one of like 3 people who's dodged it on the internet somehow)

ohHO you’ve made a mistake

the basic gist of it is that the moon is about to crash into the earth and you have 3 days to stop it. nevermind being physically or cosmologically realistic that’s not important right now but Moon’s Haunted. not normal moon evil moon. it’s all the work of this like chaos deity or w/e named majora who’s working through this little imp kid known as skull kid bc of the haunted mask he’s wearing. how do you stop the moon from falling? easy. awaken four giants and get them to literally hold up the moon. push that thang back into the sky. did i mention it’s freaky and scary btw. not normal moon.

btw there’s a clock at the bottom of your screen perpetually ticking and at the start of each day you hear a bell tolling which is fun. it’s where these memes come from!

here’s the thing though. you cannot possibly realistically do all of this in 3 days. not unless you’re a hacker or speedrunner who’s built different. so what can you do? well as a matter of fact you can play a magic song on a magic instrument that resets time to the beginning of the 3-day cycle. and you can do so anytime! so yay you can just reset infinitely!!

except that comes with a price. only certain parts of your progress get saved through your time-meddling. you lose most things- money, common items, dungeon quest progress, npc questline progress- when you reset time. if you’ve completed a dungeon or earned a mask (collectibles which you put on to unlock special abilities) those remain in the new timeline but other than that a reset is a reset. so you have to be careful you’ve seen a quest all the way through before going back through time. if you find yourself running short on time but you aren’t done with something you’re either going to have to scrap that precious progress and play the song and try again orrrr let the moon fall and game over lol. so it’s really like. your time is simultaneously infinite and limited.

^uh oh sisters!

you can help the people around you, all of whom have rich inner lives and great characters (in reference to both the main quests and the many incredible side quests which this game is known for), and you may get to keep the fruits of your labor from each endeavor (the magic masks you get, or weapon upgrades, or like. the giants being awakened), but then you reset time and their problems come right back to them. and you know that there’s nothing you can do for them because you simply do not have enough time to do all of this in 72 hours so one way or another you have to abandon almost everyone. you get all the material progress you need but in terms of the underlying story you just have to move on through life with the knowledge of all that suffering…

oh and did i mention the part where the moon is falling??? yeah that’s like. on top of the other personal problems people already have, some of which are related to skull kid’s other mischief and some of which aren’t. the moon. it is always hanging above you

yeah people around town aren’t ignorant of that. some people panic. others are in denial. some people are convinced that if they just do this and that it’ll all be fine. there’s a somewhat political aspect to the arguments in clock town (the heart of the game’s map) where some people are insisting they’re in danger and the mayor needs to order an evacuation and some people saying hey shut up don’t be silly! are you really gonna distract us from our super special carnival we’re about to host? you’re just trying to control people with your conspiracy theory! it feels a lot like a sociopolitical commentary on how different people react to crises. panic, acceptance, denial, trying to take control, drinking away your sorrows, embracing it, still holding onto hope, etc

but by day 3 nobody is denying it anymore. there’s just pure dread. not even evacuation is gonna save you because let’s be real the entire planet is done for. straight up it is the end of the world and there’s nothing anyone can do. you can’t fight the moon. the giants are the only hope and link is gonna fix everything but it’s not like the people of termina know that. so like the apocalyptic, despair-filled atmosphere is heavy. masterpiece of storytelling tbh

a few more things to mention:

-most of your masks are just optional quality of life upgrades or stuff for one very specific sidequest or just a trophy etc. but the main mechanics of the game involve transforming into the other races of hyrule- aka you can become a little tree guy, a fish guy, and a rock guy, by equipping the proper mask. as a matter of fact you start the game by having skull kid mug you and then like curse you into becoming the tree guy so you get to have a body dysmorphia moment for the entirety of the first 3-day cycle before you can break the curse and change freely. oh but fun fact about those masks. yeah those are inhibited by the souls of real actual people of those races who died tragically and their loved ones don’t know they’re dead and they’re convinced you are them. yeah.

oh btw if you get all the masks you can trade them in at the end to unlock a new transformation mask (implying you’re channeling some new mystery spirit. oh boy) called the fierce deity mask and it’s insanely powerful and makes short work of the final boss and we know nothing of the fierce deity’s lore which is a little scary. yippee!!!

-just in general both games (this is strictly speaking the second of a duology) very much have the recurring juxtaposition of childhood vs adulthood and the traumas of both. the plot of the first game involves being suddenly aged from 10 to 17 (you’re put to sleep for 7 years instead of being oh idk trained or something) and you just have to adjust to life as a child in an adult’s body. (and they’re like ‘wow cool congrats on being a grownup! :D’ as if that isn’t horrifying) then at the end just as you’re getting used to it you’re forcibly returned to being a child and now you’re an adult (kind of) in a child’s body. as a child you’re belittled and as an adult you have people making demands of you that you aren’t ready for and you’re both and neither. but now you’re definitively a child and get to have your childhood back right? yeah no. there’s no going back home anymore after everything that has happened. also one of your last remaining friends just left and now you’re trying to find her desperately. that’s the context going into majora’s mask.

-skull kid himself makes me sad because he’s not even evil he’s being controlled by majora. he is mischievous absolutely and it’s still partially his fault of course but the real him would never do all this. he ultimately just wanted friends and attention and fun and it manifested itself in a bad way (kinda reminds me of ventus in khux with about like 20% more culpability…). you get to be his friend afterward plus his two little fairy friends so yay! gotta say goodbye though.

-the two fairies are a brother sister duo. the sister (tatl) gets stuck as your companion bc she took the time to stay back and bully you extra hard at the beginning of the game and accidentally got separated from the others lol. by the time you catch up to them she wants to stay with you anyway. her brother (tael) stays with skull kid but like he isn’t evil he provides valuable intel to you but he’s just loyal to his friend. anyway tatl warms up to you which is nice and i adore her… but of course you have to say goodbye to her too :(

^child link and tatl the fairy (tatl and tael together sound like ‘tattletale’ referencing the theme of childishness)

^skull kid (wearing majora’s mask) and tael the fairy

so in short to summarize the vibes:

what if you were a terrified lonely child experiencing layers upon layers of dysmorphia and trauma searching for your last friend and a giant moon with a face was about to fall and crush the earth and you alone were the only person who can save everyone by reliving the same three days over and over again, racing against the clock each time, making new friends and solving problems only to have to toss most of it down the drain with each reset, witnessing the fear and dread around you, feeling the weight of the world on you… just. man. lemme share some music too

. x this is the clock town theme. bright and cheery on day one, kind of hollow on day two (it rains that day), by day three it sounds frantic with an ominous undertone. denial and panic etc

x this is the theme that plays between midnight and 6am on the last day (fourth day i guess? the cycle starts at 6am on the first day so the last 6 hours before the dawn of death are technically a fourth day). at this point there is no denial in the world and this track plays everywhere in the world at that time. the world is ending. this is such a masterpiece of a somber track i found the best version i could that included the clock tower bells

x theme that plays when you finally summon all four giants to epically stop the moon after heaven knows how many cycles. no more smug skull kid no more despair it’s time!! baby!!!!!!

x this is the song of healing, another magic song that helps undo corruption in various forms throughout the game (it’s taught to you by a shady weird fellow known only as the happy mask salesman. love him.) it’s such a beautiful track that really kind of symbolizes the heart of this game- yeah it’s dark and scary and chaotic but at its core it’s about healing and hope, recovering from trauma, learning to live again… link manages to do it!!! he saves the world! and while he doesn’t stay in clock town he has a good time with his friends while he’s there. he gets to breathe for a bit. not every problem can be fixed but there is a new tomorrow nonetheless. acknowledge the hurt and work through it. gorgeous

have i said enough words yet. (watch someone) play majora’s mask please

[sen-ya]

own terms

Summary: “We have to tell ‘em soon.”

Law huffed, hurrying across his room to find a sweater to take refuge in. “As I’ve told you,” he hissed, rummaging through a drawer, “I’ll be waiting as long as possible.” 

Warnings: gender dysphoria, unplanned pregnancy

Word count: 1494

hi hello this is kinda part 6.5/7 of that comic series I’ve been posting. I have lotsa thoughts abt a lot of other points in this timeline but this is the only other one I’ve done something with oops.

“We have to tell ‘em soon.”

Law huffed, hurrying across his room to find a sweater to take refuge in. “As I’ve told you,” he hissed, rummaging through a drawer, “I’ll be waiting as long as possible.” 

Luffy sighed, flopping to the foot of their bed with his head in his hands. “That’s what I’m saying,” he reasoned. “I think it’s been as long as possible.” 

Law rolled his eyes at his husband. “Well, you think wrong,” he insisted, freeing an oversized black hoodie from his dresser. He pulled it on and observed himself in the mirror. “I’m hardly showing, and I have plenty of clothes like this.” He nodded, satisfied with the way the fabric swallowed him. “Honestly I may be able to conceal the whole thing without even using my powers,” this part was muttered to himself.

”Why though?!” Luffy whined. “My crew knows!”

“And I wish they didn’t!” If looks could kill, Law would have been guilty of mariticide and, in this moment, he didn’t even think he’d regret it. “Do we have to go through this again? I don’t want my crew to know I’m pregnant. It’s bad enough that Bepo made me tell Penguin and Shachi.” 

“Why’s it bad that your brothers know we’re having a baby?” The irritation in the Pirate King’s voice was becoming increasingly familiar to Law, it’d been weeks of this conversation and he was, quite frankly, sick of it. 

“I can’t believe you keep making me have this conversation,” Law sat at his desk and crossed his arms tightly across his chest. “At this point it’s just insensitive.” 

“Did you forget we’re pirates, Torao?” 

This was a new talking point. Law quirked an eyebrow. “And that means you can be insensitive?”

”I mean, kinda? – But wait, that's not the point,” Luffy sighed heavily, speaking slowly like he was explaining something to a child. “Your crew should know the kind of coverage you need.” 

Law shot to his feet. “You’ve proven my point,” he said sternly. “I don’t need additional cover. I’m just as capable as I’ve always been.”

”Torao—“ 

“I’m not having this conversation again.” He waved his hand dismissively and swiftly sent himself to the deck of his ship. 

Left behind, Luffy let himself indulge in a long, frustrated groan. 

—-

“You don’t understand,” Usopp implored. “If I were in his shoes I’d be sensitive about it too, okay?” 

Luffy crossed his legs on top of the crate he was perched on in Usopp and Franky’s workshop. “But he’s always so…I dunno…practical,” he sighed. “And not telling your crew — y’know, the ones you fight with — that you’re fucking pregnant is totally not practical!” 

“I dunno, dude,” Franky offered from his work bench. “You sure that’s why you’re so hung up on this?”

Luffy’s face scrunched up at the question. “What else would it be about?”

Franky lifted his welding mask and shared a knowing look with Usopp. They nodded back and forth and whatever nonverbal conversation they were having led to Franky sighing. “Okay, okay. Think about it. When’s the last time you ever saw anyone land a hit on Traffy?” 

That was a tough question to answer. Truthfully, most pirates wouldn’t touch the pirate king or his consort. The new World Government still required levels and levels of approvals to engage with either of them, and even then it’s not like Koby would grant that approval unless a lot of things had suddenly changed.

”Doesn’t matter,” Luffy decided. 

“Exactly,” Franky continued. “Now tell me, why else would you want the Hearts to know?”

Another tough one. What other reason could there be?

”They were the last ones to know about you two being together,” Usopp added helpfully. Franky cleared his throat, clearly he’d wanted Luffy to get to that fact on his own. Usopp shrunk into himself sheepishly in apology. 

“Yeah, I still don’t get why Torao was so embarrassed,” Luffy muttered, paying no mind to his friends' silent exchange.

”And how’d it feel knowing he was embarrassed?” Franky encouraged.

”…I…” Luffy looked down at his hands in his lap. “…Didn’t like it.”

”Bingo!” Usopp cheered. “But it wasn’t that he was embarrassed of you, was he?”

Having finally caught up to the conversation, Luffy rolled his eyes. “No,” he whined. “He’s insecure.” 

“Exactly!”

”But he’s not like that anymore!” 

“And this isn’t the same situation as before,” Usopp insisted. “You’re asking a trans guy to walk into a room full of people and say ‘hey everyone, I have a uterus!’”

”But they’re his nakama! And everyone knows Ikakku’s trans and it’s not like anyone’s ever been stupid about it,” Luffy pouted. 

“No one’s gonna be stupid about it,” the sniper agreed. “But that doesn’t mean they can’t subconsciously change parts of how they interact with him, even if it’s only while he’s pregnant.” Usopp huffed a laugh. “Even if he weren’t a guy I’d think someone like Traffy’d want to keep it under wraps. When Kaya was pregnant tons of randos wanted to touch her belly all the time. It’s fuckin’ weird.” 

“…Torao does hate it when people touch him,” Luffy muttered. 

“And Ikakku talks about being trans, those are conversations she chose to have. I get to talk about it if I feel like it, like only when I'm comfortable enough to. I’ll bet Traffy hates not having a say in the matter,” Usopp sighed in empathy.

Luffy straightened up at that realization and a momentary silence fell over the trio. 

Franky cleared his throat. “Just keep an eye on him if anyone’s dumb enough to fight us,” he said in summation. “He’s his own captain. Let him handle his crew.” 

He hated to admit it, but Luffy knew he was right. He offered a grunt of acknowledgement and nothing else. 

—

Luffy returned to the captain’s quarters of the Polar Two greeted by the sounds of his husband emptying his stomach in the en-suite bathroom. It wasn’t an uncommon state to find him in these days, but it certainly didn’t make it any better. He made his way to the ajar door and poked his head in. Law sat on the floor, forehead resting on his arm that was slung across the toilet. Upon noticing his company, he shot his husband a glare.

”Lunch taking revenge?” Luffy offered light-heartedly. 

Law held his glare for a moment longer before allowing his face to soften slightly. “What else is new,” he grumbled, looking away. He decided his stomach was settling enough to relocate so he flushed the toilet and moved to get to his feet. Luffy was there in a flash, gently taking his arm.

”I don’t need any help,” Law sighed, pulling his arm back and reaching for his toothbrush. Luffy hovered, waiting for him to finish brushing his teeth before he spoke.

”I’m sorry,” he offered, hanging back in the doorframe of the bathroom while Law went to sit at his desk. 

“Are you now?” Law cracked open a book, pulled a few pages of loose leaf from a precarious pile on the desk, and started to scribble on them. 

“Yeah,” he replied, tentatively crossing the room to stand behind his husband. “Usopp and Franky reminded me that when you didn’t tell your crew we were together it wasn’t ‘cause you were embarrassed to be with me.”

Law placed his pen flat on his desk. “…That’s what this has been about?”

Luffy wrapped his arms around the other captain’s shoulders and nuzzled into his hair. “Maybe.”

They stayed like that in silence for a few long moments.

”I’m not embarrassed to be having your baby,” Law muttered after a while.

”I know.” 

“I’m embarrassed to be having a baby period.” 

“I know.”

“I’m certainly not embarrassed of her.”

“I know.”

”And I’m their captain,” Law continued. “I don’t want them thinking I’m less capable because…”

”They’d never think you’re not capable. They may be more protective though, and I get that you don’t want that.” 

Law nodded. “…Yes,” he agreed, leaning back into his husband’s embrace. 

“But if someone’s dumb enough to come after us, you can’t do anything stupid okay?”

That earned a hearty laugh. “Look who’s talking,” Law chuckled, looking up into Luffy’s eyes. 

“I mean it!” Luffy insisted. “You’re super strong. But…” He let his hand travel down to rest protectively on the front pocket of Law’s hoodie. 

“I know,” Law whispered. “If I’m being honest, I have been thinking about your point. It’d be…practical for them to know.” 

Luffy grinned at that. “And you do love practical.” 

Law nodded pensively. 

“Anyway, you tell ‘em when you’re ready. I’ll get off your ass about it.” In one swift motion Luffy hooked an arm under his husband’s legs and whisked him out of his chair bridal style. 

“Excuse me,” Law protested. “I have work to do!” 

“Yeah, I got stuff to do too!” the other captain laughed, turning on his heel to close the short distance to their bed.

[howlsofbloodhounds]

So we've already seen the reactions that could be provoked by Killer if Color was kidnapped... But I'm wondering just how bad it could be if Killer had to witness Color die right in front of him, helpless, unable to do anything.

I have no idea if this has been talked about before or not but I'd really like to hear your thoughts!!!

Like imagine if Color had made him a promise once before, saying that he promises that he'll never leave him no matter what happens.

And well, now that the promise is broken... Yeah

TW: talk of death and suicide and suicidal ideation, plus past suicide attempt. Stage 1 view death as freedom and rest, and Stage 2 not caring if he lives or dies so longs as he’s useful. Plus Killer being codependent on Color for purpose.

To be honest, I don’t think Killer would think much of promises. While in Stage 1, he’d have a more emotional connection to the idea of course, but I doubt Stage 2 genuinely cares or connects with such concepts. If it’s an emotionally charged moment, he’d probably make a joke or something a blow of the encounter as nothing much.

If we’re going by my little headcanons about Chara and Killer having a scared pinky swear system, where the other is allowed punished with death should the pinky swear ever be broken, Stage 2 would probably take a pinky swear in this context to mean, “If Color swears to never leave me, pinky swears on it, and then leaves me; then I am allowed to kill him.”

Color’s promise would be “I pinky swear not to leave you,” but Killer’s would be, “If you leave me, I am allowed to kill you.”

And I feel that..that idea would seem off to him, which has never happened before. He does not want to kill Color (and Color tells him that’s important, what Killer wants). So I don’t think Killer would offer him a pinky swear, regardless of the sense of security it’d bring him, but as a result he wouldn’t take Color’s promise that seriously. Death and violence is an inevitable part of life to Killer, but he still grieves them all so much in Stage 1.

(Back when he was with Chara and not out in the real world, he could just write the deaths off as not mattering while in Stage 2. Chara can Reset, they’ll come back, it’s fine. It’s different now that death is more permanent and sure, but still, it’s normal.)

Ultimately, I think Color’s death is going to be one of those things he doesn’t remember clearly. He will probably finds pieces of Color in the mundane aspects of life (the little romantic he is)—he’ll see Color in the flames of candlelight, and Color in the cameras he would’ve loved, and Color in the quotes about hope and change. Color in the warmth of heat and the light of the sun. The vibrant colors of rainbows after a rainy day.

If Killer remains with Nightmare, there’s an extreme possibility that he’ll eventually become unable to tell if any of it ever actually happened while in Stage 1. If Color was real, or just a figment the sputtering ashes of Sans conjured up in a desperate attempt to believe that freedom and hope is possible for something like Killer. Especially if Nightmare or any of the other Gang members reinforce this belief, and either don’t allow or get rid of any signs that Color existed.

He likely won’t trust any attempts of people like Dream or Swap, trying to reach out.

I doubt there’d be any chance of convincing Killer to leave Nightmare in this timeline. Hope and light died with Color, and so did the warmth. Nightmare would probably replace him with another Killer soon, whenever Killer’s determination fades away and leaves him a husk.

This type of Killer realizes that peace was possible in a way that wasn’t just death, but that was taken away. He realized what he was missing, what he was being denied, unlike other Killers who haven’t or won’t meet Color or someone like him. He’ll serve Nightmare until he becomes obsolete.

I’m sure he’ll consider ending himself in Stage 1. He did it after he killed Chara. If he has any responsibilities or people to say goodbye to, such as his cats or Swap or the rest of the Epic and Star Sanses, then I’m sure he’ll do that. With plans to off himself as soon as possible if no one stops him; because Killer doesn’t live for himself. Hasn’t for a long time. He practically begs both Color and Swap to put him out of his misery.

He lives either out of spite and Determination, or because there’s still a use someone can make of him; because others want him to.

So in the case where he’s with Nightmare, his Stage 2 self will live out of spite, because he’s still useful, because the Player wants him alive. His Stage 1 self will probably try to take care of his cats. Once his use is up he won’t fight death.

If he’s free of Nightmare, I think this will probably be when the Epic Sanses and Dream and Swap all attempt to keep a close eye on him. I don’t think he’ll like it, he probably doesn’t feel like they’re doing it out of concern for him, but simply because of pity or because they cared about Color and Color cared about him.

I think he’ll spend a lot of time in Stage 2, and as a result, I think he’ll probably just leave the Omega Timeline for a while. It’s too full of memories of Color, of things that won’t happen again, and people looking at him with pity or disgust that are an inconvenience.

He probably won’t take his cats with him; just make sure they’re safe with Ccino or the other Epic Sanses. He won’t ask Delta to come with him (he has Beta to provide stability for, and running away with Nightmare’s pet is just asking to be called a traitor), and neither will he ask Epic or Cross. On some level, Stage 2 Killer probably always just assumed that they all only tolerated him because of Color.

I’m seeing a possibility where Stage 2 packs his bags, drops his cats and their care stuff off with Ccino or at a cat daycare in the Omega Timeline, and attempts to secretly leave some time at night. But maybe he’s headed off by Dream, Core Frisk, Epic, Cross and Delta + Beta.

They’re all here to make sure Killer isn’t attempting to run off to off himself or trying to go back to Nightmare, which, no. He isn’t. Color wouldn’t want that for him.

And besides that, Epic and Cross and XChara are possibly wanting to go with him; wherever Killer is journeying off to. Killer has no idea why the fuck they want to, but he doesn’t care if they come or not. (They’re claim it’s because Killer is their bro (Epic’s words), but he thinks it’s because they don’t want him changing his mind as soon as he slips into Stage 1 and brings out a dagger.)

Delta and Beta would go with them, but as always, Delta won’t risk Beta’s health and safety. So they’re to say goodbye and make sure Killer stays in touch and visits. It’s the same for Dream and Core, but Core is also there to find Killer a safe place to stop at.

They’ll probably attempt to drop him and the others off in an AU that has enough positivity that Nightmare won’t think to look, but also has a place and precautions in place should Killer become a safety risk.

That was the deal when Killer first joined the Omega Timeline—no killing, no harming, no negativity. No going back to Nightmare and risking the Omega Timeline and its residents.

So what I’m saying is they’ll probably plop him into some sort of rehabilitation center, and if he has a therapist in the Omega Timeline (which I doubt), he’ll probably either do online sessions as mandatory or be required to find one in this AU.

Because although he seems fine and perfectly put together in Stage 2 (he’s still not, given how he avoids and dodges any topic discussing Color), everyone knows it’s a different story in every other Stage. Either way, I feel like Color’s death will leave him feeling once again hopeless and trapped—that it’s pointless to want for anything—and that death is the only rest.

(I also wouldn’t be surprised if he starts hearing Color’s voice in his head and seeing his shadowy figure of the corner of his eye eventually, too.)

[lostloveletters]

A Long, Lonely Time (David Webster x Reader)

Summary: You don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone, but when Webster returns to Easy Company, you find it difficult to reckon with the very real possibility of losing him again, maybe even for good.

Note: Gender neutral reader, and no descriptors are used. The draft script of episode 3 provides more background on Webster transferring into Easy Company, which isn’t explained in the show for some reason (a shame because they cut out some pretty great scenes), but I included a handful of the details here. This is based on the fictional portrayals in the HBO miniseries and not the real individuals. Do not interact if you’re under 18, terf or radfem, or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: Hurt/angst with comfort. Mentions of Eugene Jackson’s death. Playing with the timeline of episode 8 a little bit. Probably some other historical inaccuracies. Do not interact if you’re under 18.

Two days. David Webster had only been back for two days, and you kissed him.

Your crush on him had hibernated in his absence, frozen in a forest with the rest of you. It thawed as soon as you saw him for the first time in months.

The other members of Easy weren’t so quick to warm up to him again. No matter, it just gave you more time to spend with him. You appreciated how from the moment the two of you first bonded over your shared love of literature, he was genuinely interested in your thoughts and opinions, assuaging your fears that you’d be a lackluster companion to the Ivy Leaguer.

He could’ve taken the easy route as others with a privileged background like his had done and allowed his social status to get himself a cushy position. However, he, like Caption Nixon, inexplicably chose the rest of you. Unlike Nixon and yet just as inexplicable, he rejected any promotions. Odd, yet admirable, like when he’d approached Winters in Aldbourne after D-Day, requesting to transfer from Fox to Easy to put his skills as an assistant machine gunner to better use.

None of that mattered to your comrades anymore, but as a medic, you appreciated that he took recovering from being wounded seriously. You told him such, and he smiled, confessing that he had used his stint in the hospital for one selfish indulgence. Later, when the two of you were alone; he pulled a brown paper package from his pack, privately presenting you with a gift he got his hands on for you. Ripping back the wrapping, you beamed when you saw the cover of a brand new ASE copy of The Postman Always Rings Twice.

Your worn copy of Jane Eyre had been waterlogged from the snow and rendered illegible. New books were low priority in the Bois Jacques, so you were left without reading material for longer than you would’ve liked.

The book was the first time in what felt like years you’d received a gift. You had almost forgotten how nice it was, especially something so thoughtful. So you kissed him, impulsively, passionately, threading your fingers through his hair to pull him closer, your other hand gripping the book tightly. 

He kissed you back with a tenderness that had long since become foreign to you and felt almost too overwhelming as a result. His lips were soft and warm compared to yours, chapped from weeks of unrelenting cold, but he was undeterred. His hands held your waist, his fingers gently pressing against the skin that’d been exposed as your untucked shirt had ridden up. You shuddered against him, feeling goosebumps rise on your skin–either the cold air, or his touch. Probably both.

Hearing the clamoring of nearby voices, you reluctantly broke the kiss.

“I don’t have anything to give you,” you lamented breathlessly.

His blue eyes seemed to sparkle when he smiled. “I think we’re even.”

“You know,” you began, turning the book over to glance at the synopsis, “all I ever heard when this came out was that it was dirty. Are you trying to tell me something?”

“Books aren’t dirty. It’s embarrassing that Boston even bans them the way they do.”

“Have you read it?”

“I haven’t, but that’s not the point. They’d ban Shakespeare if he were publishing today.”

“I don’t disagree with you,” you said, suppressing an amused smile, “but I only asked because I thought we could read it together, if you don’t mind the company.”

His expression softened. “I’d love that.”

Smiling, you leaned in for another kiss when the door opened, and the two of you jumped away from each other like the other was on fire.

You relaxed when you saw Roe standing in the doorway. He gave you an almost exasperated look, but that was all. For the moment.

“Webster,” Gene said, giving him a nod of acknowledgement before shifting his attention to you. “Will you sort through those supplies Luz got earlier? I gotta check on Lipton.”

“Sure,” you said with a nod. “Thanks again, Web–David, the book’s great.”

He smiled. “Of course.”

You followed Gene out of the room, walking side-by-side down the hallway until you were a decent distance from Webster and out of earshot from anyone who might otherwise eavesdrop. When your best friend stopped in his tracks, you mirrored him, flattering a bit beneath the weight of his disapproving glare.

“Are you crazy?” Gene scolded.

“He gave me a book. It’s not–don’t look at me like that.”

“However wounded he gets, it’s gonna be a lot worse for you.”

“I know.”

“No, you don’t know. This ain’t the time or place.”

“There might not be another time or place,” you argued.

He sighed, either conceding to your argument or not finding it worth wasting any more breath over. For how long you’d known him, he could be impossibly difficult to read. “Just be careful, alright?”

Gene brought you to the recently delivered boxes of medical supplies, desperately needed weeks ago. Better late than never. You rifled through bandages and morphine, hands shaking a bit as you tried not to think about who might have still been there if it’d come in sooner. But Webster came back, even though you’d long been convinced you’d never see him again. At least if the worst happened, you wouldn’t have to wonder if your feelings for him were reciprocated.

The worst. You weren’t sure what, out of everything you’d seen the past few months, could have been considered the worst. Slow deaths, blown off limbs, or men whose bodies and psyche were trapped in that place between life and death. But you couldn’t let yourself spiral, not when so many people were relying on you. Hope seemed increasingly hard to find, and if indulging in whatever you had with David gave you the slightest bit more, you’d take it.

As if materializing from your thoughts of him, he walked into the room, silent concern etched in his face.

“There’s a patrol tonight,” he said. “We’re going across the river to bring back prisoners.”

“Who all’s going?” You figured if he was breaking the news to you, he’d be included. A sinking feeling dropped in your stomach when he answered, nevertheless.

“Most of 2nd platoon, except Liebgott and Malarkey.”

“It’s always 2nd platoon,” you muttered. “So you’re going as translator, then?”

He nodded. “The Krauts won’t expect us, at least that’s what they say.”

“I’m still gonna worry,” you said softly. “Just got you back.”

“Comes with the territory, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah, it does.”

“I’ll find you as soon as we’re done,” he promised.

“Can I give you a kiss for good luck?”

“I’ll never say no to that.”

You pressed your lips to his, craving the tenderness he’d given you earlier like it was missing from your veins. You hadn’t realized how much you needed it, soft words and tender touches that made you finally feel something other than numb and tired. Desire that would long remain unfulfilled had settled deep inside of you, and you desperately wished you and David were somewhere, anywhere else. 

Holding onto him just as tightly as you were trying to keep your restraint, you went as far as he led you, open-mouthed kisses burning into your skin until a moan escaped your lips, nearly giving the two of you away.

“You’re the most incredible person I’ve ever met,” he said, giving you a quick kiss that felt achingly insufficient for what you wanted from him.

“Wait ‘til you get me in bed,” you joked.

He laughed, caressing your cheek. “I mean it. I’ve never known anyone like you.”

“Shame we had to meet this way, huh? But then we probably would’ve gone the rest of our lives not knowing each other at all.”

“That’d be a real tragedy.”

“You’re telling me.”

Far too soon for your liking, though you weren’t sure how much time had passed in all honesty, he made his leave as the sound of approaching footsteps grew louder and darkness began to fall. 

You tried to keep your mind off of the patrol, assure yourself that you were worrying for nothing. Sitting on an empty couch, you finally got a better look at the book he presented you with, not having a chance to before. He’d written on the blank cover page, filled the whole thing and then some.

Beneath your name, carefully written in pencil, an inscription, detailing the longing he felt from your absence, his heart growing fonder of you with each passing day but struggling to assuage the loneliness and doubt that began to coil around it. The sound of your voice, your laughter, so vivid in his dreams that he’d wake up looking for you. He’d taken your friendship for granted, he claimed, but though the two of you met during less than ideal circumstances, getting shot was worth meeting you. Your vision began to blur with tears by the time you reached the end of his confession, ‘I missed you before we ever met, and now that we have, I miss you even more.’

You slammed the book shut, choking out a sob. It wasn’t fair. You’d just gotten him back, and in the blink of an eye you could lose him again, possibly for good. In that moment you understood better than ever why medics were supposed to keep their emotional distance, but the pain in your chest, the salty tears that stung your eyes were all worth it for the brief comfort you had found with him. You’d been so lonely otherwise, constantly surrounded by people but still feeling something missing until he returned.

Your name sounded muffled to the ringing in your ears, until Gene sat next to you, putting his arm around your shoulder. 

“Don’t get too stuck in your head. Won’t be able to help no one like that,” Gene said, holding you in the hug. “Don’t think about it.”

“How can I not? It’s all around us–I can’t–”

“Yes, you can. You wouldn’t be here if you couldn’t.”

You let out a shaky breath. “I don’t feel like it sometimes. I feel like I’m just–”

“Just one person and it’s never gonna be enough.”

Something had happened in Bastogne, the last time he went back to the town. He never spoke of it, even when you offered to be an unjudging ear to spill his thoughts to, but you could tell it affected him deeply, even still. Knowing he was speaking from experience was an almost painful comfort.

“Why don’t you get some rest? I’ll be up,” he said.

“You sure?”

He nodded. 

When he left, you set the book aside, silently promising yourself that you wouldn’t read it without Webster. If he didn’t return, it’d stay with you, unread until you met your own demise. An unnecessarily dramatic gesture to only yourself, you hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

The following hours found you in and out of sleep, almost unable to discern your erratic dreams with troubling reality. Footsteps and voices muddled together into unintelligible ramblings that you couldn’t help interpret as the worst in your near fugue state. Your worry was laced with frustration at letting the situation cause you so much distress. You were a medic, after all. You were supposed to be prepared for this.

Still, you couldn’t help but feel a momentary wave of relief crash over you when Webster walked into the room.

“Thank god,” you whispered, throwing your arms around him and kissing his cheek. 

His embrace was stiff, awkward, and the far away expression on his face gave you pause.

“David, what happened?”

“Jackson’s dead. It was his own grenade. He didn’t wait long enough. It just…”

“Oh my god.”

“He didn’t die right away.”

“Why didn’t someone get me? Maybe I could’ve–”

“By the time Sergeant Martin got Doc Roe it was already too late. There was nothing Doc could do—nothing you could’ve done,” he said quietly, before adding, “I’m glad you didn’t see it.”

“I’ve seen worse by now.”

“Why add onto it?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Me too. That I didn’t write to you, that I didn’t tell you sooner how I felt about you, but it’s no use dwelling on all of that now,” he said. “It can’t change anything, and no matter how sorry we are, it won’t bring Jackson back, or anyone else, for that matter.”

It was settling in, that same bitterness that’d made its home in the bones of your comrades. A taste in your mouth that could be mistaken for blood by anyone else, but you knew it all too well. Your heart ached at seeing it finally get to Webster, too.

“Do you wanna just sit for a while?” you asked.

He nodded. The two of you settled onto the couch, his head in your lap as you ran your fingers through his hair, gently tracing the soft lines that ran across his forehead, betraying that despite his closed eyes, his mind was still racing. 

“This isn’t exactly how I wanted to spend the rest of the night with you,” he mumbled after a while, his eyes fluttering open.

“David, it’s alright,” you said, your thumb brushing back and forth across his cheekbone, trying to pull his mind out of the depths you knew too well. “I’m glad just to do this. I’m kind of crazy about you.”

“Kind of?”

“Yeah, just a little bit.”

“What would I have to do to make you a fully-fledged lunatic?”

“Horrible, indecent things that would get me sent home in shame.”

He laughed. “But crazy about me?”

“Absolutely wild.”

He took your hand from his face, kissing your palm before holding it in his. 

You weren’t sure when you’d fallen asleep, but you awoke the next morning with an unforgiving crick in your neck, and the thought of the recently delivered aspirin tempted you for a split second before you realized you’d woken up by yourself.

He probably slipped out at some point, returning to his bunk so neither of you would get into any trouble. It didn’t stop you from asking around for him until you finally caught him alone.

“Hey, where’d you run off to?” you asked.

“Sink wants another patrol,” Webster told you, watching cautiously as your hands balled into fists at your side.

You fought back tears of frustration. “Then I wanna go too. I’ll make sure nothing like what happened last night happens again. Where’s Captain Winters? I’ll–”

“Winters is going to tell him a phony story about how we went back but couldn’t get any more prisoners.”

You paused, your brain taking a moment to process the information before you let out a weak laugh in disbelief, the tears that’d welled up in your eyes rolling down your cheeks regardless. Maybe you were delirious. Or sleep deprived. And your neck still hurt. “That man is a fucking saint.”

Webster smiled, putting his arm around you and pressing a kiss to your temple. “He is. Especially since that leaves me free the rest of the night.”

“You know, this handsome guy just gave me a brand new copy of The Postman Always Rings Twice.”

“Sounds like he has good taste.”

You smiled. “Yeah, I’d say so.”

[storiesbyrhi]

Witch!Reader x Bat/Vampire!Eddie Munson Series Masterlist The Grimoire The Timeline

Warnings: canon typical violence, horror genre typical violence, swearing, animal death, no beta, warnings updated each chapter.

Synopsis: No witch has stepped foot in Hawkins since 1845, but when Vecna opens the ground and poisons the town, a voice begins to call to you. Have you been brought back to this cursed place to heal the townspeople’s wounds, to save a hexed bat that always finds its way to you, or to redefine your history with a reunion 150 years in the making?

Chapter Summary: Bury a candle and give allegiance. 2740 words.

1986

Time had passed since you’d delivered the final line of the spell. Nine minutes, to be precise. You’d said the words, then got off your knees to sit more comfortably on the tiles, your back to the wall. Edward sunk into the bath, letting the water come up to his shoulders.

“We’re almost done,” you whispered. “You have to bury the candle.”

As he dried off and dressed, you retrieved a glass from the kitchen while making a mental note to add clothes to your shopping list.

Carrying the glass of the powered bathwater, you lead the way outside, through Forest Hills, and out to the small wooded area you’d first crossed paths with him. A few neighbours watched you as you went by, but most were busy packing to leave Hawkins.

The vampire dug a small hole and placed the candle in it, then took the glass of water and poured that on top. He covered it up and stood by your side.

“It’s done,” you confirmed. “How do you feel?”

He considered the question for a moment. “The same,”

“You don’t remember anything else?”

Shaking his head, he looked at you. “I’m sorry,”

“What? What are you sorry for?”

“I wasn’t your burden to bear,” he offered. “You do not owe me anything.”

You felt you did though. It was a deep and profound feeling. One that somehow surpassed everything you knew to be true about vampires. It surpassed witch allegiance, seeing you undo another’s hex. And it surpassed both your innate need to protect living creatures and your oath to harm none.

There had to be a reason, but searching for the meaning was a dangerous road to go down. It was a luxury too, one that Hawkins would not afford you.

“We should go home,” you said. “We have a lot to talk about.”

…

1836

“You would never tell me a lie, would you?” You fluttered your eyelashes.

“Me? Deceive you? My beloved little witch? Never.” Although there was levity in his voice, you knew he was being truthful.

“So, then you can confess to me. You can transform into a bat!”

Eddie laughed. “I promise you, I cannot,”

“But the stories!”

“And what of the witches in the stories?” he counterargued, rolling onto his side.

It was past midnight and you were lying together beneath an old oak tree. The ground was still warm, fall not yet prickling the dark with a cool change.

Eddie reached out to gently touch your face. His skin was cold, but it made you flush hot.

“Vampires are very boring,” you teased.

“Imagine my good fortune then, being bound to bore for all eternity, only to find you.”

A day had not passed by since that first kiss without you sneaking off after dark to meet with Eddie. The sun has risen and set no less than sixty days.

In the moonlight you listened to Eddie tell you how he came to be a vampire, how he was damned, amoral, and evil like the others. You knew he was different. It did not matter what he had done, it mattered what he was doing. He hadn’t hunted any of the villagers who lived unaware of such beasts, nor the Native Americans who knew a monster when they saw one.

You knew there were things Eddie kept hidden. How, sometimes he ushered you back to the village earlier than usual, and he’d hunt elsewhere. Inhuman speed allowing him to travel great distances quickly. No, your vampire was not on an animal diet. It was something left unspoken between you.

Instead, you spoke about the places you had been and how the world use to be. You theorised about the future, about how the 1800s would end and what the 1900s would look like. “I cannot picture you in the year 2000,” you said as you sat up.

“No?”

You crossed your legs and Eddie shuffled to lay his head in your lap. As you began to braid sections of his long hair, you tried to imagine it. “Well, we change with the world…”

“I can change with the world,” he argued.

“Can you? How many days did it take for you to answer to Eddie,”

“But I answer to it now,”

“True. You do.” You leaned down to place a kiss on his forehead. He smiled, his upper canines slotting neatly into the lower. “Would you answer to it when you’re in your bat form?”

Eddie moved quick, had your fingers between his teeth. There was no pressure, you could take them back at any moment. He looked up at you with his dark eyes, something feral and held in reserve glinting through. He let your hand go.

“If I could do that, would I not be hidden in your pocket all the time?”

Giggling, you nodded. “You would. I would like that,”

“No bats. No… garlic undoings…” He tried to think of all the falsehoods. “Nor beds of soil from the grounds of our deaths. Nor hawthorn. Nor insight into your thoughts…”

It was terrifying, how little of the stories were true. What did that leave known about the vampires?

“Can I protect the humans by telling them not to invite anyone over the threshold of their homes? By arming them with blessed water?”

Eddie’s smile dropped. “Protect them from me?”

“No… Not you. But-”

“My kind… The colony…” He sat up and looked at you.

“I will not feel guilt for this,”

“I wouldn’t expect a witch to feel guilt about anything. The spoils of the righteous,”

“Eddie,” you whispered, reaching out for him.

He flinched, at first. A darkness settled over him. He was still in absolute.

“The colony – are they your family?” you asked.

“If they are, will you tell your coven to stop the hunt?”

It was the first acknowledgment of both Eddie’s colony and the coven’s hunt for them.

A vampire’s warning always comes in the death of livestock. Vicious killings of cows and lamb. They had been infrequent, not enough to alarm the farmers. The witches wove fact with fiction to keep the peace. It had been three seasons since the first lost sheep.

That is why you weren’t surprised by the vampire when you first crossed paths.

There was a limit to how many animals a witch would let die so brutally. Eddie’s colony had yet to reach it. Likewise, they had not brought harm to any townspeople. Until those conditions were met, the witches only prepared for the hunt. They sharpened their weapons and perfected their spells. They would lay in wait until then.

“There will be no hunting unless-”

“When,” Eddie interrupted. “When they come upon your village like a plague or Pestilence himself in the night, it won’t matter if they are kin.”

Your eyes had welled up. “No,” you agreed as a tear slipped down your cheek. “I will protect the humans.”

Eddie nodded slowly, then took your hand and let you cup his face. He closed his eyes. “Little witch. I envy your world of absolutes. And I love you so.”

When he took you in his arms, you held on tight, refusing to let him go until the first songs of the morning birds sang misery.

…

1986

“So, I keep trying to call you… Edward… in my head, but it’s not sticking,” you admitted as you checked the temperature of the water in the kettle, putting it back on the stove to reach boiling point. “So, maybe we’ll need that nickname after all,”

“Nickname?”

“Yeah, I mean, you do look like an Edward. But the only people that would go by Edward now are, um, the elderly, and while me and you both technically count… let’s try to keep you as inconspicuous as possible.”

Back inside the trailer, the vampire had sat on the couch, tried his hand at looking normal. It was coming back to him, how to move in this body and how to find his words.

While you mentally added ‘nice tea’ to your ever-growing shopping list, you continued on your train of thought. “But, you’re lucky, because Edward, Ed, Eddie, easy. Take your pick.”

He only took a few seconds. “Eddie,” he decided, waiting on you for approval.

“Eddie…” You looked at him from the kitchen bench, how he was watching you intently. Nodding once you turned away as the kettle whistled.

With your mug of tea warming your palms, you sat on the couch next to Eddie. Pulling your legs up and crossing them, you shuffled around to face him.

“You should go first… Have you remembered anything else?”

“No,” he said quietly. “I… I’ve been here for many, many years,”

“Longer than the humans?”

“No… The humans have always been here. Not as they are now though. They were once… quiet. And they…” Eddie struggled to explain how it used to be. “They have changed the land,”

“They have,” you replied. “They used to know better. They… They know, now. It’s like they’ve forgotten to care.”

Eddie could hear the sadness in your voice. Did he feel empathy… or was it simple recognition? “You love them,” he stated.

“I did once. I don’t know if love is what I would call it anymore. It’s complicated. Do you remember that about witches? That we watch over the humans?”

Eddie’s gaze wandered up and away as he searched through his mind. “Maybe… Yes… That is why we…” As his sentence failed, you saw an expression creep over his features. It was the first time he looked truly vampiric. It wasn’t a smile. It was a knowing smirk. “We are not friends,” Eddie finished, his eyes snapping back to yours suddenly.

“Do you remember what happened to the vampires?” The need to assert yourself as not only a healing witch, but as a dangerous thing too bubbled up in you.

“No,”

“There are no more. Not anywhere on this earth.”

Eddie’s head tilted and his little grin fell. “Vampires cannot be killed,”

“You couldn’t. Not a stake through the heart or even sunlight. But we figured it out,”

“We?”

The tension was rising but you held steady, refusing to feel regret or fear. “Witches spent eons hunting vampires who hunted humans. Covens got so close to working out how to properly kill… them. But it was my coven, here in Hawkins, that did it. It was more than a lifetime ago, but it still feels… recent, I guess.”

Eddie’s stare was unblinking. “Clever witches,” he whispered. “I was… hexed… before that then,”

“Yeah. They would have just killed you otherwise,” you confirmed.

Eddie remembered to blink. He nodded. “And what year is it now?”

“1986.”

There was knowledge stored in his cells. Small pieces of information in his biology, but not much. Just… vampire. Blood. Apex, cannot be killed. Walk by moonlight. Don’t trust a witch. The thought led Eddie to his first question for you.

“Why help me?”

“I… I didn’t know what you were.  I thought you were just an injured bat,”

“But you didn’t stop… helping me. When you knew.”

You opened your mouth to speak but got caught wordless. Shrugging, you shook your head. “I don’t know.”

Eddie wanted to force more out of you. He wanted to know what would possess a witch to resurrect an already defeated enemy. He wanted to know what it felt like to hand over the dog. He wanted to know how often hexes were reversed.

The wetness of your eyes and the shaky breath you were trying to even, they made him settle for an ‘I don’t know.’

“Next question. Do you know about what’s happening here? The evil?”

“It has been here for a long time,” Eddie answered with a slow nod.

You cocked your head. “Have you seen him?”

“Him?”

“Uh, the humans call him Vecna. He’s something else. Not like us,” you told him.

Eddie smiled. “How are we alike?”

“Oh… I guess… I guess we’re not. I meant, he was somehow made, by other humans… But… so are vampires… So was the first vampire,”

“The evil is like me,”

“No. It’s different.” It was getting under your skin, the comparison between Eddie and Vecna. Why though? “I wish I knew more. But whatever doorway was opened, it’s not one witches can see through. All I know is that there is world beyond this one and he hides there. He travels through the mind and has power over people. He’s already killed people and hurt more.”

Eddie thought of the white long-limbed creature with its face of teeth. The monster made of humans, how it snapped and crushed. They had been visible from the sky; he’d tailed the chaos as a bat. Vecna had never shown himself like those things had.

“Where are the witches?” Eddie asked.

“They are… not coming. As far as we can tell, Vecna doesn’t know about us. Or anything supernatural beyond his own world. The coven fears if he discovers it, he’ll either try to drain our power or kill us all. Or both,”

“And what of the humans?”

Despite the questions being entirely valid, you felt interrogated. “They have won before. More than once,”

“And if they fail?”

You sucked in your bottom lip and chewed while you formulated a response. “The coven will intervene… They won’t let him go further than Hawkins,”

“You do not sound convinced,” Eddie observed.

“I will intervene. I will protect the humans.”

Eddie’s instincts told him that witches were steadfast in their conventions. Virtuous and stubborn. Yet, every rule you had, you’d seemed to have already broken or committed to doing so. He couldn’t remember if he was meant to feel. Was he meant to like you, to show preference at all? You were so flawed though and it endeared him to you.

“If it comes to that, I will help you…” He didn't say your name. It didn't feel right on his tongue. There’s something else there though, living on the tip of it. It’s lost. Trapped in the memories your spell couldn’t bring back.

You nodded and gave him a forced smile. Vecna hurt to think about. The children hurt to think about; Erica Sinclair at age eleven.

“Something called me here,” you said suddenly. You were caught off guard by your own admission. “To Hawkins. My coven thinks it’s… not haunted, but something like that. None of us have been back since we left. But when Vecna did what he did, I started to hear it,”

“The calling,”

“Yeah. When prolific events happen, it unsettles everything. What he did to the earth and to his victims… It could have changed something. Let me hear something I couldn’t before.” Part of you was simply thinking out loud, a stream of consciousness that finally had an audience in Eddie. And, an attentive audience at that.

Eddie had relaxed back into the couch like he’d grown up on that very one. Every minute he spent reinhabiting his old body was comfort. He was watching you still, those dark eyes trained on your changing expressions and lively movements.

“When you hear it, does it have a voice?” he asked you.

“Almost? It almost did… Just like there were almost words. But… it was… I don’t know. Like someone else’s thoughts in my head. But it stopped when I got here. I kind of sold this whole thing to myself as following that voice. That it had to mean something. But now it’s gone. And I don’t know if it was him… or…”

“Me,” Eddie finished for you.

You nodded. “But you… you didn’t,”

“I don’t have magic,” he reminded you. “And I was… just a bat,”

“Right,” you said slowly, trying to recognise the emotion on his face. “Just a bat…”

“I owe the voice my gratitude,” Eddie said, dipping his head and smiling. “And, maybe… Vecna… He will rue the day that voice dared to call to this little witch.”

It exploded across Eddie’s body. A prickly warmth that responded to the combination of those two little words. He watched your pupils expand at his words. Your blood smelt rich. Thick. Hot.

It was entirely beyond either of your understanding. What had happened. What was happening. And what hadn’t yet transpired. Yet, for a fleeting moment on the couch of a run down trailer, you and the vampire were of one mind.

End Note: No, it won't be as easy as the unhexing spell bringing back Eddie's memories. And now, there is a looming threat in Vecna that may sidetrack this little witch's mission to turn back time. Thank you for reading. I am frothing at all the predictions of what is going to happen and what is going to be revealed. Some of you are hot and some are cold. xo Rhi

Fic Taglist: @kaitebugg03 @paranoidmunson @munsonsbait @idkidknemore @paprikaquinn @stardustworlds @loz-brooke @wyverntatty @vintagehellfire @dark-academia-slut @scarletwitchwhore @becks1002 @mrsdollardog @heyndrix @luceneraium @rosaline-black @devilinthepalemoonlite @goldencherriess @iamwhisperingstars @wiltedwonderland @blueywrites @breezybeesposts @jadehowlettthewolf @spikesvamp79 @foreveranexpatsposts @tortoiseshellspells @wingedpeachjudgegiant @stardustmunson @live-love-be-unique @fangirling-4-ever @reanimated-alice @b-irock @gh0stlybunnie @myown-worstenemy-2003 @woozzz @cyberxlust @hiscrimsonangel @buckysbarne @m00nlight101 @word-wytch

All Eddie Taglist: @solomons-finest-rum @ruinedbythehobbit @sweetpeapod @thorfemmes  @corrodedhawkins @grungegrrrl @lilzabob  @averagemisfit03 @ches-86 @ilovecupcakesandtea @onehotgreasymechanic @hazydespair @mel-the-fangirl @eddies-hid3out @siren-lungs

[humbledragon669]

S1E1 – In The Beginning Write Up P3

– Five Years Later (allegedly) and The Present Day

Alright so let’s address the elephant in the room here shall we? The signpost tells us, in no uncertain terms, that the story line has moved on by five years. I have a serious issue with that assertion, and it’s not just because this is in direct contradiction to the storyline in the book. It goes a little something like this:

I cannot believe that Aziraphale and Crowley have left the Antichrist alone for the first five years of his life.

Even if we’re generous here and say that Crowley steps in to replace a nanny that has been present for Warlock’s early years, it simply doesn’t make any sense that they would have sat back and let him develop on his merry way for the most influential years of his life (sorry Neil, but I will die on this hill). The book’s timeline here makes a lot more sense – that both Aziraphale and Crowley are inserted into Warlock’s life within a week of his birth, Aziraphale as the gardener and Crowley as the nanny. At the age of five, they both leave and return immediately as tutors for him, ensuring that they are both present for his entire childhood. With that in mind, I’m going to do something potentially controversial and adopt the book timeline as fact. It just makes more sense. Also that will make my fanfic ideas not only possible but genuinely really feasible. Honestly, I don’t know why the timeline deviates from the book here – this matter aside, the series is a truly excellent adaptation of the book (judged by the fact that I never said “that’s not how it happened in the book” for the whole of series 1. There are a lot of media writers that could learn a lot from Neil on this point – I’m looking at you Discovery of Witches series 2 creative team).

There are two things I find interesting about the short scene that follows (no, one of them is not how well David carries off a skirt, though I do really appreciate the Mary Poppins reference with that costume). Firstly, the positioning of Aziraphale as a gardener. I suppose we shouldn’t be surprised that the idea of a garden is brought up again, but I can’t quite make the connection myself. Perhaps there isn’t meant to be one. That said, I would have thought, given his character, Aziraphale might have been more suitable as something like a butler (it would even give him the opportunity to steal food!), which would likely give him more opportunity to interact with Warlock throughout his childhood, so I do feel like there’s something here.

On a tangential (and impossible-to-be-related) note, I saw Nye a few days ago (a play about the founder of the NHS, starring Michael, for those who don’t know what this is) and there was a line in it about Nye and his wife believing their love to be like a garden – he planted the love and she tended to it. It was truly beautiful and touching. I felt like I had a sort of light bulb moment about gardens in GO and then realised that the two productions have nothing to do with one another!

The second thing I noted about this sequence is more something of note than something that has meaning. Having discussed the music/soundtrack for this series in a previous write up, it should come as no surprise that there is a cute little parallel here: the melody Crowley uses for the lullaby he sings to Warlock is the same as the melody for the second motif in the theme tune. It’s slowed down quite considerably, but still recognisable.

Original theme:

Lullaby:

I have to say, I’m a little disappointed we don’t get to hear the rendition of “Three Little Pigs” that we’re treated to in the book. I am not ashamed to say that I laughed very long and very hard when I read it – I have a pretty dark sense of humour. Perhaps this was a little too much for the good ol’ BBC?

Quick item of note from the next scene at Heaven/Hell HQ – this series has escalators instead of an elevator. I had originally assumed that this was the same building as we see being used in series 2 to gain access to Heaven but looking at the background when Crowley and Aziraphale enter the building, it’s clear that it’s a completely different building, which just makes me wonder where exactly the HQ entrance is. There’s a really clever piece of editing at use here too, one which I actually didn’t spot until I was doing this write up.

I hadn’t noticed previously that the duplicate image of the escalator on the floor of the lobby ISN’T a reflection of the physical escalators. On the left, we can see Crowley’s image on a set of escalators going down, whilst we see no reflection of Aziraphale. We even get to see Crowley approach the escalator in the “reflection” after he disappears through the floor, whilst Aziraphale’s reflection disappears from the floor as he approaches the stairs, and both of these things happen as they walk across an area that ripples like water under their feet. I don’t think there’s any hidden meaning in this, I just think it’s a really cool piece of film.

When we see the angel and demon giving their reports to their respective head offices, it’s made clear to us that neither authority has any awareness of their collaboration. In fact, Aziraphale is still held in high esteem by Gabriel and Michael (though perhaps not Uriel and Sandalphon – those two always look like someone just pissed on their nice suits) and is even given permission to continue on his apparently futile mission. Unfortunately, the same cannot be said of Crowley, but as Liggur said earlier in the episode, it would be a funny thing if demons could trust one another anyway.

It’s nice to see that Heaven isn’t so busy that it can’t produce a newspaper for its earthbound agents, complete with weak headlines, worthy of any local rag:

I do not think it a coincidence that the newspaper has been given the title of “Observer” – after all, it’s pretty much all they do up there isn’t it? Watch people? Other than planning Armageddon I mean…

The short scene on the bus also shows us a little more of the dynamic between Crowley and Aziraphale when it comes to planning. It’s clear that the angel is relying on the demon to lead the way and he looks really worried when it’s made apparent that Crowley doesn’t have a plan for a potential emergency situation.

Quick note about the Hell Hound – he’s being housed in a room with a number on it – 2549. Does this mean there have been 2548 Hell Hounds before him? Hastur certainly indicates that he isn’t the only Hell Hound they have (but he is the biggest). Where are the rest of them?

The conversation (which takes place in the grounds of Crystal Palace Dinosaur Park - the repeated reference to dinosaurs being a big joke in this scene is not lost on me) on the park bench is the first time we hear Crowley call Aziraphale by the name “Angel”. Neil has confirmed (here and here) that this isn’t anything other than a factual name to use but I can’t help but feel like it’s affectionate. It’s certainly very familiar and it’s interesting to see that Aziraphale doesn’t repay the favour; perhaps this is to do with the meaning of the words – after all, calling someone “demon” doesn’t feel very polite, does it? Or perhaps it’s just that “Aziraphale” is a bit of a mouthful to say. This is also the first time we are let in to the secret of them having their own side:

AZIRAPHALE: And if he does name it? CROWLEY: Then you and I have lost.

The conversation around the potential murder of an 11-year-old boy presents an interesting side of the relationship between the pair. I don’t think I’m alone in thinking that the suggestion that Aziraphale is capable of killing an innocent child (even if he is the Antichrist) is nothing short of laughable, and Crowley would know this. This suggestion is shared with a rare occurrence of Crowley communicating “secretly” with Aziraphale where the angel doesn’t get the message, and the irony is that Crowley isn’t even being that subtle about it. There’s no doubt that Aziraphale really doesn’t get the drift though:

It’s painful to watch Aziraphale’s thought process here. He knows that Crowley’s logic actually makes sense but he can’t tally that with his own moral compass – it’s a struggle that I think the vast majority of us would go through if put in the same position. Sadly, it’s not like Crowley has much other choice than to suggest Aziraphale does the deed – if he were to do it himself, the repercussions for him would be unthinkable. It’s clear that this is the first time he has raised this idea in the eleven years they’ve been doing this job together and he can’t even say it without his voice breaking (see “one life against the universe”), and once it’s clear that Aziraphale isn’t open to the idea he doesn’t push him or lose his temper. He watches Aziraphale carefully for the whole exchange, without changing his expression, which I take to mean he’s watching for any signs that he’s pushing him too far.  All of this tells me he’s only done it because they’re getting desperate.

Alright, it’s time to move on to the little “magic” routine. I find this whole sequence adorable - can we say 1941 vibes? I do find it interesting just how quickly Aziraphale’s mood changes with the idea of him being able to perform some magic again – he’s gone from the contemplation of the ethics of an actual trolley problem (see here if you don’t know what that is) to a smiling, bubbly angel complaining that his companion is “no fun” in mere seconds. For someone who lives their life in eons of centuries instead of years or decades, he’s a remarkably fickle being! It’s pretty blurry in this shot, but just look how happy this angel is:

The hidden communication thread is resumed at normal operation here as Crowley knows exactly what Aziraphale means when he says he could “entertain” – he knows exactly what he means by this and is not amused by the implications.

I also find Crowley’s use of the word “demeaning” an interesting choice here. Usually we might say embarrassing; in fact the dictionary definition of demeaning is to lower the character of somebody, or to make them feel less respected. Whilst I can fully understand why Crowley might be embarrassed by Aziraphale’s pathetic attempts at illusionary magic, I am less clear on why he would find it demeaning. UNLESS. Unless my suppositions about the state of their relationship are correct, in which case they would have already been together (romantically) for almost eleven years at this point. Then it makes a weird sort of sense.

The comic little squabble that follows also makes perfect sense in this context. This couple are in no mood to compromise on this matter; Aziraphale will not be told that he’s a shit magician because he has too much fun doing it (this despite the fact that we know he and Crowley agreed he shouldn’t do magic anymore, but unlike in 1941, there’s no risk of anybody getting hurt if he drops a coin on the floor) and Crowley will not concede that he’s being a killjoy (which goes quite against his character). The spat concludes with Crowley delivering a passive-aggressive threat to Aziraphale, which you can see he instantly reconsiders with a head tilt - probably wise considering how unimpressed the angel is with it.

Side note: the watch that Crowley is wearing (seen at Warlock’s birthday party) appears to be a Devon Tread 1 A, coming in at a cool 18.5K (dollars). The book does make mention of his watch being fucking fashionably expensive but it was custom made for him, with an extra time zone for “Another Place” where the time is always “Too Late”.

Another side note: how many dens did you make as a child? A fair few I’d bet if you were anything like me. Did they ever look as cool as the one that The Them has? Me neither. I mean, just look at all those guns and skeletons used for decoration:

Once we’re back at the book shop, I find it interesting that Aziraphale is intending to imbibe (we don’t actually see him drink any of it) whatever spirit he’s given to Crowley. I’ve no doubt it’s good quality, it’s just unusual to see him drinking hard liquor – perhaps this is simply due to the seriousness of the situation he finds himself in. Their conversation about lying in memos to head office also suggests that Crowley might not be the only one lying to his bosses:

CROWLEY: Everyone stretches the truth a bit in memos to head office, you know that.

Is it me, or is there a sense of “I told you so” to Aziraphale’s lack of sympathy towards Crowley’s despair? Some might say it’s reminiscent of the way a stereotypical nagging wife speaks to their long-suffering husband when he’s done something wrong…

In amongst the dark threat of impending Armageddon, we’re still treated to a little comedy (and perhaps another Clue as to the current status of the relationship between the angel and demon). Crowley’s snappy, and ill-considered, outburst in response to Aziraphale’s almost apologetic confession that he’s wearing a new cologne is well worth a word or two. Let’s say for a second that this pair are not romantically involved at this point in time – is it not a bit strange to think that the person you’re with knows you so well that they would detect that you’re wearing a different perfume than usual? I would think you’d have to be spending a LOT of time in VERY close proximity to that person for that piece of information to be anywhere near their radar. And what’s with the angel’s apologetic tone? Why would you feel the need to be sorry about trying out a new cologne? Aziraphale doesn’t look particularly shocked when Crowley announces that he knows what he smells like, and Crowley’s tone and facial expression suggests he thinks this piece of knowledge is a pretty obvious one.

Here’s my last observation for this episode. Check out just how earnest Crowley is in this delivery:

Despite Aziraphale’s response that he thinks he obviously would, I don’t really feel like he believes this stance, and he’d do anything not to believe that what Crowley is saying is true.

And so concludes the first episode! If you’ve made it this far through my write-up(s) so far, I commend and thank you. I’ll start work on the next episode over the next few days, but in the meantime I’ll also write a master post that I’ll add to as I go along. As always, comments, questions, discussions and any other engagements are welcome.

[heyiwrotesomethings]

I made my promise I would make a request of this so here it is. May I please request y/n and Shinobu from different fics all meeting each other? Like for an example, painter reader and demon Shinobu meeting y/n from another fic and human Shinobu. Or maybe cat demon y/n meeting y/n that could mimic everyones voices. Maybe one modern y/n and Shinobu meeting the demon slayer timeline Shinobu and y/n.

Sorry the list got so long, you don’t have to do all of them, these were just examples :D

Anyways thank you for your time and I hope you have a great day/night! Take care and stay safe! <333

Into the Shinobu-Verse

Shinobu Kochou Variants x She/ Her and They/ Them Reader Variants

A/N: You know what? I think this turned out pretty good! It’s goofy, but I think that helped me work faster. Here are the links to the fics that got their own little spot light in order of appearance Fic1 Fic2 Fic3 Fic4 Fic5 Fic6 Fic7 Fic8 Fic9 Thanks for reading, hope you like it! Word Count: 3,901

“Okay, okay, everyone stand still, stay calm, and remain quiet so we can establish assigned seats and then we can sort all of this out in a timely manner.” Shinobu called out over the crowded tea room, it was the largest space they had that could fit all these… uncomfortably familiar faces.

“(Y/n) can you make sure everyone stays connected to who they came with?”

“I’ll try my best.” (Y/n) sighed, as tired as they were anxious to see all these alternate versions of themself that had suddenly popped into existence one by one, or two by two if you counted the Shinobus they came in with. “Okay, can everyone stop talking please? Hey, be quiet everyone! Hello?! Please?! Oh, come on—!”

A loud, very convincing siren noise screeched from within the crowd and everyone clammed up, swiveling their heads to find the source of the noise. It was one of the (Y/n)s, her Shinobu had been the only one to cover her ears in preparation and rolled her eyes playfully at the disruptive mimic.

“Uh, thank you for that.” (Y/n) cleared her throat.

“No problem, me!” The mimic flashed a thumbs up over the crowd.

“Okay, um, mimic me and your accompanying Shinobu, you can sit right here.” (Y/n) motioned them over to a spot on the tatami floor and gave them each a paper with the number one on it. “These will help us keep track of who is who and who comes from where kinda I guess.”

“Excuse us, can we please just skip this and figure out how to go home now?” Another (Y/n), quite noticeably older than most spoke up, “We have children we need to pick up from school in a few hours.”

“Really, kids?”

There was a mix of curiousness, confusion and envy that came over the space.

“Can you turn on the AC or something, it’s insanely hot in here.” The accompanying Shinobu groaned, wiping sweat from her forehead. “Or is this a completely historically accurate mansion from the Taisho era or something?”

“What is… AC?”

“How do you not know what AC is?”

“It’s a completely modern mansion!”

“I can’t even get any cell service here…”

“What era are you from?”

“The Reiwa era, obviously.” The older Shinobu spoke matter-of-factly.

“Reiwa?!”

“What’s that?!”

More confused murmurs began but (Y/n) yelled over them, asking everyone to settle down once more.

“Listen, we will work as quickly as we can to get everyone back to where they belong, just bear with us, go sit next to group one please.” She handed two scraps of paper with the number two on them to the older couple.

“Okay, uh, how about you?” (Y/n) pointed to another version of themself who was dressed in much the same odd clothes as the one they had just checked in, but this (Y/n) just looked at them like a startled deer. “Um,” she pointed more obviously, “I’m talking to you, come forward with the Shinobu you came with please.”

“Oh geez,” the Shinobu beside the other (Y/n) stepped forward, “She doesn’t speak Japanese, and mine isn’t that great either. We’re from America.”

“Oh, okay!” (Y/n) spoke up before the crowd could grow in volume again, “come take these papers and sit beside group two, please.”

“Sure,” this Shinobu came forward and perched her strange, blacked out glasses on top on her head, and scrutinized (Y/n) as she took the papers, “So Taisho, for real?”

“…Yeah.”

“Damn it! I really wish I had my gear with me! This has ghost shit written all over it!” She said to her accompanying (Y/n) in their native tongue.

“Okay, I don’t know what you are saying, but please move along, much more to get through!”

A commotion in the back of the room drew (Y/n)’s attention and then could see swords had been drawn.

“Hey! Hey! Put those swords away! What are you doing?!”

“These two are demons!” A few of the Shinobus responded tightly, “And these traitors are protecting them!”

“She has never hurt anyone! You leave her alone, or I will not hesitate to cut you down as well!” The Shinobu protecting the cowering feline demon threatened.

“You know how much I love to feed off negative emotions, but I’m feeling a little too full right now.” The other demon (Y/n) murmured in a strained joking tone to their own Shinobu variant who was in a similar protective stance in front of them.

“Enough!” Shinobu called out, her voice carrying more weight than (Y/n)’s at the moment, “(Y/n)’s right, swords away! We don’t know what the situation is like in everyone else’s plane of existence. Unless you are on the verge of being attacked, you must leave those demon variants alone!”

“Thank you”, the four called, relieved. They carefully made their way to the front and took the four and five group numbers and sat closely together, finding comfort in their solidarity.

“Okay, how about you two next?” (Y/n) quickly got back to work. The sooner they got this taken care of, the sooner they could go to bed and sleep off the headache they felt coming on.

Without a fuss they came forward and that was when (Y/n) noticed that they were both splattered with blood. No wonder the couples around them seemed concerned.

“Oh my! Are you two okay?”

“Oh yes, just fine,” the Shinobu in the backless, black dress smiled, (Y/n) caught sight of the sprawling, flowery back tattoo she had as this Shinobu twisted around to observe herself, “we’re actually glad to be here. We were in a bit of a pinch.”

“I almost had them.” The (Y/n) with her groaned. “Now that we’re here, who knows what those bastards are up to? You know how much I hate loose ends.”

“One thing at a time dear, once we figure out how to get back, we’ll do a complete overhaul.”

“That’s some back tattoo,” a (Y/n) from the crowd spoke up, “Are you part of the Yakuza or something?”

“Or something.” The Shinobu smirked and gave a wink as she took the group six papers.

That (Y/n)’s accompanying Shinobu shot the other a warning look, pulling her partner possessively into her body.

“Okay— wait, Mitsuri? What are you doing here?” (Y/n) had looked out upon the crowd again to see a bright pink and green shock of hair that stuck out from the room.

“Um, I’m with these two actually?” Mitsuri sounded almost unsure, but held the (Y/n) and Shinobu she came with an assured tightness as if she was afraid of being separated.

“That’s weird… why would you be here from another plane if no other Mitsuris are?” Shinobu pondered alongside (Y/n)

“Ummm… oh!” Mitsuri snapped, “Maybe it’s because all three of us are dating each other like all you couples seem to be?”

There was a smattering of noise, probably from (Y/n)s and Shinobus who were thinking they just might have to shoot their shots with their Mitsuris when they made it back home.

“That makes just about as much sense as anyone being here in the first place I guess.” (Y/n) handed the group of three, three pieces of paper with the number seven scribbled on them.

“Okay, you next!” (Y/n) pointed at another (Y/n), then made them stop when two Shinobus followed along with them. “Oh, wait a second, do we have our first mix up? Is there a (Y/n) out there who lost their Shinobu?”

“Nope. This is normal for us actually.” The (Y/n) spoke up. They took note of the bewildered looks they were receiving and shrugged, “Cloning mishap.” As if that made it sound any less insane. The trio stepped up and took their group eight papers, smirking when they heard a couple mutterings of ‘lucky bastard’ from the crowd.

Finally, after nearly a half hour of sorting, the last group was seated and (Y/n) sunk to their knees, exhausted. At least now this was Shinobu’s show to run, hopefully she and the other Shinobus would figure out how to get everyone back where they belonged soon.

“Alright everyone, let’s go through each group and see if there is a connection between what everyone was doing before you were sent here. Group one—“

There was a sudden snapping and popping crackle noise and a flash of purple light. Everyone flinched, but not because of the sound or light itself, they had all arrived in much the same manner, but what did disturb them has the immense demonic presence that had suddenly enveloped the room.

“Ah,” the demon Shinobu that had appeared at the front of the room stretched one set of arms over her head and her secondary arms out in front of her, four piercing eyes scanned the room appraisingly and a fanged grin spread across her face, “Not quite what I had in mind, but I can work with this.”

The room was filled with a twang of swords being drawn by all who had them. The energy this demon emitted left no doubt that she was sinister.

The (Y/n) who had appeared with the demon, anxiously clung to her deep purple kimono with paint stained hands.

“Such protective little ants.” The demon Shinobu’s eyes darkened and her grin curled into a sneer, “I’m only collecting what is rightfully mine. Afterwards, you all can be in your merry ways.”

“And what could we possibly have that belongs to you?” Was the sentiment that was heard from the crowd.

“As if it isn’t obvious, a pity I’m not as intelligent in ever universe. I will be taking all the variants of my beloved artist back home. Worry not, trust that I will take care of them better than any of you could ever dream of.”

The room erupted in a chorus of angry and nervous voices.

“Silence!” The demon’s butterfly wings fanned out, sharp and black as midnight with large, iridescent toxic purple rings.

“Shinobu-sama, please,” the Artist carefully maneuvered around a wing to clasp her arms around two of Shinobu’s, “maybe this was a mistake.”

“Wanting you is not a mistake.” Demon Shinobu assured grouchily.

“Well, no… but maybe wanting more than one of me is?” The Artist murmured quietly, looking down at her feet.

“Nonsense, if one is good then adding more could only make things even better. Now,” she spread her free arms out to sweep over the crowd, “come forward my little pets.”

No one moved an inch, making the demon roll her eyes and huff in frustration. She just couldn’t fathom what was making the (Y/n)s stay put. Couldn’t they see she was superior to all the other Shinobus by leaps and bounds? Better than them all combined, even?

“Then I’ll just have to be a little more persuasive.”

The demon brushed her (Y/n) off of her arms and spread all four limbs out into an ‘x’ shape. Then with a couple beats of her wings, she emitted a purple dust that soon spread throughout the room.

Then chaos.

One by one, (Y/n)s began fading away, slipping right through the desperate fingers that were grabbing at them. Those with swords leapt forward at the demon, but she and her own (Y/n) were fading as well, the echo of an evil cackle was all that was left behind before a heavy silence filled the room.

But then one shuddering breath from somewhere within the crowd and everyone began breaking down in their own ways. The Mitsuri variant hand her hands full trying to bring comfort to every other Shinobu she could find along with her own, trying to stem the flow of her own tears.

“Everyone stop.” Shinobu, the one of this universe, called over the crowd, “Sitting here feeling sorry for ourselves won’t get us any closer to getting our (Y/n)s back!” She seethed, eyes blazing. “We have work to do. If anyone can figure out how to find them, it’s us.”

Everyone in the room began to steel themselves, nodding and agreeing and rallying around each other. They were the biggest scientific minds in most of their universes, if they put their minds together, they could figure this out.

“We will get them back!”

***

Demon Shinobu was getting impatient. Her new playthings were very, very slow to warm up to her and a few had attempted to behead her more times than she’d like to think about. She was a gracious host, gave them everything they could ever need. Why couldn’t they behave?

“How is the art going, lovelies?” She asked a group.

“Oh just great. I think I got you just right.” One of them slid the paper over to her with a smirk.

It was an unrefined, scribbled illustration. Not the least bit dignified. Her four eyes were looking in completely different directions, tongue sticking out, among other things.

“What are those lines signifying?” She asked pointing to the wavy lines that her form seemed to be emitting.

“How much you stink.” The (Y/n) shrugged with a roguish smile, accepting the high-five another (Y/n) offered them.

Shinobu blinked all four eyes simultaneously, looking thoroughly unamused.

“Children.” She muttered.

“I’m thirty-three.” The one who provided the high-five retorted.

“Well I’m over two hundred years old so that means nothing to me.”

At another table further away, the Artist sulked, half heartedly painting along side a few of her variants as she had been for the last few weeks, hardly saying a word most days.

“You aren’t trapped here like us, are you?” One (Y/n) whispered. “You like, actually love her.”

The Artist signed and nodded solemnly.

“So you probably like us being here as much as we like being here.” Another (Y/n) spoke up, “You should tell her that! Your word probably carries way more weight than ours. If you told her to send us all back to where we belong, I bet she’d listen.”

“Shinobu-sama does as she pleases, it won’t matter what I say…” the Artist said, continuing on with painting her depressing scene.

“Sure it will, you got a better chance than any of us do at least, really. Don’t you want her all to yourself again?”

“Of course I do!” The Artist didn’t yell, but it was the loudest the rest had heard her speak since they knew her. “I just don’t think it’ll matter…”

“Sure it will. Just try once, please, for all our sakes. We have Shinobus of our own that we long to get back to and I don’t know about you guys, but mine is definitely not coping healthily about this whole situation.”

“Neither is mine.”

“Nope.”

“Definitely not.”

“She probably hasn’t slept at all!”

“Our Shinobus all have one thing in common. She loves us unconditionally. It’s the same for you, it has to be.”

The Artist looked around the table, then across the art studio at all the gloomy and depressed variants of herself. They all looked as miserable as she felt. She owed it to them to at least try to talk to her muse.

“Okay… I’ll talk to her.”

“Thank you!”

“You’ve got this!”

“Demon or not, she’s a Shinobu at her core. She’ll listen to you!”

The Artist stood from her table and allowed the reassuring hands of her variants push her forward on wobbly legs. She had never gone against Shinobu like this before, or even in general honestly. She was always far too eager to please her and far too meek to voice any disagreement. That was how they ended up like this in the first place. Perhaps if she had spoken out against her muse’s plan, everyone would still be in their own universes none the wiser.

She swallowed thickly and approached the demon who turned to her as soon as she felt her coming.

“Shinobu-sama, I would like to, oh, um, I’m the (Y/n) who—“

“I know you are my first pet. Just say what you want to say.” Shinobu’s words sounded abrupt, but the Artist knew that was just how she spoke sometimes. She could be just a little impatient. The Artist thought it was cute.

“How can you tell it is me?”

“You think I couldn’t tell the original masterpiece from all these flimsy copies? Don’t make me laugh. Now tell me what you have to say, I’m in the midst of trying to convince these foolish demon variants to eat a human or two so they can get stronger and reach their full potentials.”

“Well, um,”

“Hahh, we will talk in the hall then,” Shinobu lifted her head up to address the room, in a semi-sweet voice “remember, try to escape into my woods and you’ll be as good as dead!”

She then pulled the Artist out of the large studio space and a ways down the hall of her sprawling mansion. The Artist’s mind was still spinning from the compliment the demon had tossed her way. She thought she was a masterpiece!

“Now talk, don’t think I haven’t noticed you acting cold… have the variants been giving you a hard time?” She added as an afterthought, showing a flash of fang at her displeasure at the thought.

“No! Not at all!” The Artist answered hurriedly, “It’s just… don’t you think that maybe… you should take them back to where they came from?”

“They’ll get over it soon enough I’m sure. Can’t be rebellious forever. I can handle whatever pettiness they throw at me. I’m not afraid of a little hard work. You don’t have to worry about me, pet.”

“It’s not about that it’s… well…”

“Yes? Spit it out.”

“Never mind. I’m sorry.” The Artist backed out. She was a fool for ever thinking she could do this. She began mentally apologing to all the people she left in the studio as she turned around to walk back, but the demon stopped her in her tracks and spun her back around with a flurry of arms.

“No, no. No never minding. You disrupt me like this, I expect to hear the reason. Speak, pet.”

“It’s nothing…”

“It is something and you will tell me now.” Shinobu murmured darkly. “Don’t test me further.”

The Artist swiftly shook her head and tried to turn again, but it hard when there were four insistent arms pinning her in place.

“Don’t. Be. Difficult.” She hissed. “You’re usually so good—“

“I want you to send the variants home!” The Artist suddenly snapped. “I want all of your attention on just myself again!”

She breathed heavily for several seconds and Shinobu stared at her dumbfounded. When the Artist had time to process what she said, she quickly ducked her head down and shrunk into herself as best she could with Shinobu’s arms around her. Not much longer after that, she heard the demon chuckle and renew her grip, pulling her close.

“Is that so, pet? You want my attention?” She cooed, “My, I’ve never seen you speak your mind like this and you look so expressive too. It’s very cute.”

Shinobu’s wings unfurled and wrapped around the Artist in a comforting manner that she rarely shared, save for a few occasions when she was feeling possessive or even rarer occasions when she felt particularly cuddly.

“Do you really want me to send them all away? Would that make you happy? Don’t think I haven’t noticed how drab your scenes have been lately.”

“Yes. It would make me happy for it to just be us again.”

“So selfish, pet,” before the Artist could tilt her head away in shame, Shinobu brought it back with a finger, “I like it.”

The Artist gave her a shy smile and Shinobu gave a delightfully evil-looking grin in return.

“But may I just keep a few to devour at my leisure?”

“Please don’t.”

“Very well. You are lucky I am so accommodating to your silly little whims.”

***

“Check the math again.”

“Who has seen Variant 27? She was supposed to be back from the bookstore an hour ago!”

“En went looking for her, apparently that bookstore is on the other end of town in her universe. She will be back any minute!”

The Shinobus (plus one Mitsuri) had been toiling nonstop, researching all they could about travel through dimensions, time, space, whatever they could get their hands on. So far they had yielded little results. They were starting think this was part of the demon variant’s blood art. No one would say it out loud, but they were all beginning to think that they had no hope in getting their loved ones back.

That is, until they heard that snapping crackle that had haunted what little sleep they had allowed themselves. They were all up in arms until their (Y/n)s began fading back into existence then they were rushing in for bone crushing hugs.

Among the last of the arrivals was the demon Shinobu and her (Y/n), both looking extra close to each other.

“Hurry along, chop-chop. Everyone found who they belong to? Good.” The demon sounded completely disinterested in even her own words, ready to go back to her normal routine.

“You’re setting them free just like that?” A few Shinobus asked skeptically.

“Yes. They’re obnoxious and grating. I can’t stand them for even a moment more.”

A couple more Shinobus felt comfortable enough to joke that they felt the same, even suggesting that the demon take theirs back despite how frantically they had been searching over the last few weeks.

“Too bad, your problem now.” The demon snapped her fingers and flicked her wings, this time, (Y/n)s and their Shinobus had begun to fade. “I’m sending you back to your original dimensions. When you arrive, it will be the same day it was when you left. Wish I could say it was a pleasure, but it wasn’t.”

The crowded room was filled with goodbyes, variants which had become friends waved and thanked each other for keeping themselves sane and soon only two pairs remained, the original duo from this dimension, and the demon and her artist.

“See, it wasn’t that bad, right?” (Y/n) smiled at the Artist.

“It wasn’t. Thank you for giving me that push I needed.”

“And thank you for getting me back home.”

“I did that.” The demon scoffed. “Anyway, enough of this. I don’t know what it is, but seeing myself in this sorry human form in making my head ache.”

“I could say similar things about your sorry state.” The human Shinobu quipped.

“I’m ready to go as well.” The Artist hugged the demon’s left arms, dissuading her from turning their little quips into a full out brawl.

(Y/n) and Shinobu waved goodbye to the variants as they faded from sight. When they were gone, Shinobu all but collapsed in (Y/n)’s arms.

“I’m so glad you’re back.” She whispered against their neck.

“Glad to be back, I missed you so much.” (Y/n) hugged her tight. “If I’m tired, you must be down right exhausted. Have you been eating enough?”

“Yes, Aoi had everyone working overtime in the kitchen to keep us fed. If we didn’t eat, she’d have force fed us. She was already mad enough about us overworking ourselves as it stood.”

“Good ol’ Aoi.” (Y/n) smiled. “Let’s get you into bed.”

“Only if you’re coming with me. I don’t feel like you’re really here just yet.” Her grip on their clothes tightened a little for emphasis.

“Of course. Nothing would make me happier.”

[loving-family-poll]

Ultimate Incest Tournament - Round 2

Homestuck fanart by Timsel-kun on deviantart

Propaganda under the cut:

Beverly/Elliot:

Hot lesbians both played by Rachel Weisz! And they're canon in the book it's based on, and like HEAVILY implied to be for realsies in love and fucking in the show. Great lesbianism, great incest

There's literally a scene where elliot is listening intently to beverly having sex in the next room, and she like moans listening to it ok

Beverly's gf breaks up with her cuz she's weirded out by the twins relationship

Beverly likes to attend a support group for ppl with dead siblings and pretend her sister is dead like the psychosexual issues here.....

beverly and elliot were literally trying to have a child together. Elliot (a gynecologist) artificially impregnated Beverly MULTIPLE TIMES

Dave/Rose:

Daverose blondetwin sweep because they were codependent without ever meeting from growing up seeing each other in their dreams

What does it mean to be an abused teenage boy growing up alone and seeing a girl in your dreams every night who is also your best friend. and when you finally meet her you go on a suicide mission together even though nobody was asking you to die with her. and then you are the only two human beings left in the recognizable universe on a cold meteor surrounded by aliens but you’re glad it’s with her. and when you finally touch the girl from your childhood dreams she looks exactly like you. because she’s your sister

I don't have words for how good these snarky assholes are together. DaveRose is brain chemistry changing. They both put up so many fronts, and engage in so much snarky wordplay, and are constantly trying to get under each other's facade. They play off each other so well, witty and sharp, I need them to be together always

We all die & we all die alone are the two cold truths of the universe but dave and rose broke both simultaneously by ascending to godhood together

Their twincest wins because it is just so confusingly tragic? profound? dave leaving rose behind in a doomed world, dave following her to the bomb. they are both so closed & cut off & curt its hard to imagine the depth of these things. but that is their love language: giving up their lives for each other over and over, in a confusing and fumbling and heartfelt love song. i can’t say i love you but i know we’ll die together anyway. because we’re made of the exact same stuff. i’ll find you again at the last moment. that’s love.

THEY DIED TOGETHER, YOUR HONOR

Confirmed canon by the author, (something happened) between them. Parallels of dying by each other's sides in EVERY timeline. They are THE womb-to-tomb. There is nothing platonic about winking at your brother while talking about crushes, that shit is incestuous. Seer/Knight archetype. They will die protecting each other.

do you realize love someone if you don’t follow them on a suicide mission into the gaping maw of a literal fucking sun after they knock you out and psychoanalyze you in your dreams? the blueprint of the “ethereal androgynous blonde boygirl twins” trope. witch/knight dynamics. they find each other to die together in every timeline no matter what (but they’re still emotionally constipated teenagers who bicker and make fun of each other in pesterchum). kids with grown-up powers. perfect little freaks of nature. what if we looked exactly like each other’s eyes

[poisonsage808]

♡ Flowers ♡

w/ dany, sansa, arya, brienne and margaery w/ gender neautral reader

(A/N: everyone in this is 18+, we’re not gonna look into the timeline of that like we’re not gonna look into the fact some flowers just aren’t available in certain areas lmao)

♡Daenerys♡

• She’s probably already been given every flower ever known to man, you tell yourself before you can round the corner and greet the dragon queen

• Discouraged, you turn back around only to almost bump into Missandei who smiles, “Are those for the khaleesi?” she asks pointing to the tray in your hand

• Lemon hibiscus cookies with the edges rolled into sugar crystals sat on a meticulously detailed plate

• The idea seemed good some hours ago while you were making them.. and a few months ago when the idea came to you in the first place (It took a while to get everything together and even longer to quiet your nerves about it)

• “No— I mean, yes but she didn’t ask for them and it’s so close to—“

• Missandei is smart, she’s nudging you onto the balcony where Daenerys is watching her dragons fly, “Khaleesi, you have a visitor.”

• The queen’s smile has you go rigid and your grip on the tray tightens as you offer it to her with a bowed head

• “What an interesting combination. How did you make it purple?”

“Hibiscus flowers, your grace. I-I dried the petals and made them into a powder.”

• Missandei fights back a smile while informing the queen it takes two weeks to dry out flowers and how purple hibiscus flowers haven’t bloomed in two months

• “You’ve put quite a bit of time into these then?” Daenerys asks. You nod, cheeks rosy under her gaze

• She takes another bite and doesn’t hide the smirk that tugs at her lip, “I think I’ll need to bring you with me when I cross the sea. I’ll miss your pastries too much to leave you here.”

♡Sansa♡

• The last time she was given a flower it was by a Tyrell and it was so long ago she can’t recall which it was or if the act was genuine. It probably wasn’t, she tells you

• So you devoted hours in the library, left before the sun rose and returned when it was falling

• You waited patiently to catch a moment of the queen’s busy day and blush when she comments on your absence. “I’ve been looking for you, they told me your horse was gone before anyone woke.”

• Sansa’s stoic expression falters when you present one long stem with purple blooming flowers from behind your back, “They’re gladiolus— gl-gladioli? They represent strength, integrity and remembrance.. and so do you, your grace.”

• You just meant to give her a happier memory, a true gesture of adoration, not make her cry!

• When Sansa tears up you frantically apologize but she wraps her arms around your neck and pulls you into a tight hug

♡Arya♡

• Ladies are given flowers and Arya Stark is not a lady so you’ll have to be subtle with the gesture as well as unconventional

• Gift it to her in private

• A leather bracelet with lilies engraved on the underside; a flower associated with rebirth. It seemed fitting and Arya agrees, asking you to tie it on for her

• She wears it proudly every day and waves to you with the hand that displays it, sometimes with a wink like it’s a secret between the two of you

♡Brienne♡

• She’s never gotten flowers before and you debate for a long time if it would offend her or not… You decide to find out and ask forgiveness later should that be the case

• After she’s completed her duties for the night, you approach just before she retires to her chambers

• As always, Brienne smiles politely and nods at you, greeting you and saying your name so sweetly your knees wobble a bit. It mattered not if the day she had was long and tiring, she asks if she can help you with something

• “You could take this off my hands,” You laugh nervously as you hold out the single stem with many white flowers, “I hear they call it a fallen star.”

• Astrantia, a symbol of protection, strength and courage

• Brienne’s lips part and a blush erupts on her cheeks as she holds it closer to her face, “No one’s ever given me flowers.” she almost whispers

• “I’ll consider myself the luckiest person alive to be the first, and everyone else a fool for not doing it sooner.”

• She keeps those flowers until they wilt but before then, you’ve given her more and her words of thanks slowly become kisses instead

♡Margaery♡

• Y’know what’s a worse idea than giving a Tyrell a rose? Giving the cruel, boy king’s intended a rose

• You have to be much, much more clever than that. Luckily, the woman you fancy speaks the language of flowers

• Yellow mums are placed on her seat and you watch from a distance as she cautiously looks around in genuine surprise. A secret admirer

• That same look and those gorgeous eyes once again scan the area some days later when she’s handed a drink with marigold sticking over the rim of the glass

• “Is something the matter?” Someone asks her. You turn away just when she catches you watching from a distance. Margaery shakes her head with a bright blush on her cheeks, “Not at all.”

• There’s a red rose in your room that night, and being held by the queen to be. She smiles and says, “I was hoping they were from you.”

• Y’know what’s stupider than accepting a rose from the king’s betrothed? Kissing her until both your lips are bruised