#this fanfic is brought to you by the letter P

[astrology-bf]

Crystal Clear

(CW: Dawntrail and other MSQ Spoilers, Light Angst, Implied NSFW)

After the unexpected illness of one of the Thavnarian delegation’s chief members, which was explained away as food poisoning (but likely the result of far too much mezcal the previous night), the Vow of Reason had found himself with a free afternoon. 

There were other matters that he might attend to, but Lamaty’i suggested that he take advantage of the opportunity and spend time on himself. Koana could tell his little sister worried that he wasn’t giving himself space to mourn their father’s passing, and she’d been quite delighted when he said he’d spend the day out in the city. Which was true: he just wasn’t specific as to which part of the city he’d be going to, that being the For’ard Cabins where the Warrior of Light was staying.

He hadn’t given himself space to mourn intentionally, but his talk with Ifan on the balcony had helped greatly. They’d held each other tightly while they wept and found catharsis, and then they’d had a talk. A long one, during which Koana learned a great deal more about him. 

Ifan had explained where each scar came from. The ‘godbrand’ was Ifrit’s, as he had mentioned. The bullet wound was dealt by Yotsuyu goe Brutus, the now-dead Witch of Doma. The scars across his shoulderblade were from Nidhogg's shade as it possessed Estinien. The slice across his chest was from Elidibus in Zenos’ body: one that nearly killed him, had it not been for the intervention of Fordola and aforementioned dragoon. 

The worst one, however, was not visible. Ifan said another Ascian had piloted the body of a man he loved and lowered Ifan’s guard by feigning that the man had managed to regain control, before he struck him through the chest. It killed him, and that Ifan lived and breathed was solely owed to Hydaelyn. He didn’t say who the man was.

Koana had asked about his marking, too. He hadn’t given the tattoo much thought, as such were common in Tural, but when he gave more thought to Ifan’s body when he’d caught a glimpse of it he noticed how distinct it was: an ax upon Ifan’s right wrist, hafted with four sparking stars. Ifan had been hesitant, but then with honesty he told Koana about Ardbert and his friends. The Vow of Reason found the tale a little much at points, and had to wipe his eyes as Ifan recounted its unlikely beginnings and tragic, if bittersweet, conclusion. 

It also put some things into perspective, specifically one G’raha Tia. The man seemed roughly Ifan and Koana’s age, yet had the bearing and the manner of someone much older (for the most part). Ifan seemed near deferential to him, too, calling him ‘my lord Exarch’... a reference to his time upon the First, and of the vigil he’d conducted there. Ifan had explained how he and G’raha met, then parted, then met again. How much the pair had sacrificed for one another, and for the world. Two worlds, in fact. 

He hadn’t quite known how to feel about it all. It seemed impossible at points, traveling between reflections, or to the moon, or to the universe’s edge. Koana didn’t doubt Ifan was truthful, though, and as the tale neared its end the Vow of Reason settled on feeling sad for Ifan, appreciative that such a man desired his company, and missing Gulool Ja Ja since the Head of Reason would probably know just what to say about it. But Ifan seemed to feel better having talked about it to a friend who had fresh eyes, and reassured Koana that he would be all right and would speak to Krile and G’raha about how he felt. And he’d thanked Koana, earnestly, before he’d asked the Vow of Reason if he’d like to talk about his family.

Koana’s instinct was to say he didn’t, but after Ifan was so truthful he would have felt ashamed… So he talked. He was honest with the Warrior of Light about his feelings towards his father and his brother, his wondering if there was something else he could have done to dissuade Zoraal Ja, or stop him at the very least, how he missed his father but wondered if either of Gulool Ja Ja’s heads had actually believed in him, and how he thought he knew himself and felt that he was flailing but unable to speak up because being Dawnservant was what he wanted. Ifan listened while he held his hands, and didn’t judge him. And when Koana finished speaking, he felt a little lighter.

They ended up in conversation longer than Koana had expected, and though he’d missed a planned engagement he didn’t feel it too dishonest to apologize with the excuse that something urgent had come up. It had: Ifan needed him, and he had needed space to grieve, as well.

While Ifan appeared fine enough when they had parted, their talk was on Koana’s mind as he considered what he’d do with his free afternoon. Even if Ifan was busy, he wanted to check up on him. So he took the aethernet to the For’ard Cabins, and then made his way to Ifan’s door before he knocking politely.

There was no answer for a moment, and then the shutting spell upon the door was disengaged. It opened to reveal not Ifan, but rather G’raha Tia. 

“Oh!” The archon blinked at Koana, and then smiled brightly. “Vow Koana, what a pleasant surprise.” he said.

Koana blinked in turn, lips pursing for a moment. He’d forgotten that the red-headed Hhetsarro - Miqo’te, rather - had opted to share Ifan’s cabin. Which made sense, as they were partners. Koana tried not to think too hard about the fact he’d done… things… with the Sharlayan’s lover, and gave a courteous nod. “Apologies. A good day to you, G’raha Tia.” he greeted, giving a small smile.

G’raha’s ears flicked happily as he grinned. “And to you, as well. What may I do for you?” he asked, expression settling into a friendly smile.

“I…” The Vow of Reason had to pause and clear his throat nearly inaudibly. “I had come to see Ifan, but I would not wish to disturb the pair of you.” he explained, feeling his cheeks tingle. He wasn’t quite sure if it was embarrassment, or if it was the warmth in G’raha’s eyes.

“Not at all.” answered G’raha with a small shake of his head. “He is only gone briefly to fetch food, and should return shortly. You are more than welcome to come in and wait, if you would prefer. I confess I have been wanting the chance to speak with you myself.” he suggested, stepping aside and inviting Koana in.

Koana tried not to swallow visibly. He couldn’t hide forever, and Ifan had assured him that the archon was quite fine with it. And G’raha seemed entirely friendly, and quite pleased to see Koana, too. So he nodded. “If I am not imposing.” he said, entering the cabin.

“No imposition at all.” replied G’raha cheerfully as he closed the door behind them. “Will you take refreshment?” he offered, gesturing at the table where water and some beverage bottles had been placed. 

“I am fine for now, thank you. Your hospitality is much appreciated.” responded Koana with a gracious nod.

“‘Tis the least I can do after you and Lamaty’i have taken such good care of Ifan and the others, to say nothing of your own hospitality.” replied G’raha with a small laugh as he moved to lean against the table.

Koana’s ears flicked and he gave a faintly bashful smile as he clasped his hands behind his back. “We have been blessed to have your aid and friendship. I wish only that your first visit to Tural was under less troubling circumstances.” he replied, unable to stop the faint twinge of misgiving on his face.

G’raha seemed to notice, his smile growing more sympathetic. “You have my condolences, Koana. If there is anything I am able to do…” he offered, head tilting slightly with a small note of concern.

The Vow of Reason found himself a little heartened by the archon’s words and smile. Speaking to him was quite soothing: no wonder Ifan seemed enamored of him. “It is appreciated. You have my heartfelt thanks.” he answered, giving G’raha a warm smile. Then he nodded. “Time is what is necessary, I would think.” he added.

“Of course.” answered G’raha with a nod. Then he hummed. “Well… If you should want for any counsel, I have some small experience in leadership. Though you seem to be settling into the role with more grace than I did mine, I confess.” he offered, giving Koana a kind grin as both his ears flicked.

Koana felt a smile pull at his lips, but privately he found the archon’s words ridiculous. Ifan told him what that ‘small experience’ entailed, and yet there wasn’t any hint of false humility in G’raha’s words. He just seemed the sort of man to view that sort of labor as a triviality considering the prizes, and one who didn’t hesitate to put himself in danger for the sake of others. A hero, if Koana had to put a word to it, and of the kind most people would describe - rather than Koana’s use of the term to describe the author of one of his favorite works on Allagan history. He found himself admiring the Miqo’te for quite different reasons than his scholarship. 

He have a thankful nod. “Ifan had mentioned you had a task of some responsibility.” answered Koana, diplomatically. “Though that was his perspective, which he admitted was incomplete.” he added.

G’raha raised an eyebrow and an ear at the revelation, and then chuckled. “You are welcome to ask, ‘tis less a secret and more exceedingly complicated.” he said, giving Koana a wry nod.

Koana felt his lips begin to twist as he looked G’raha up and down. There was a question that he had, one that only could be answered by someone like his father. He hadn’t had the chance to ask, because it hadn’t yet occurred to him until he and Lamaty’i were actually on their own, leading Tural. He swallowed. “...Was it difficult?” he asked.

The former Crystal Exarch’s expression settled into something thoughtful, though his eyes remained on Koana sympathetically. He gave an honest nod. “At points.” he admitted. “The nature of the service meant there were many sacrifices, but… I would do it again, given the results.” stated G’raha, firmly. Then he huffed through his nose in faint amusement at himself, and nodded. “That said, had I the opportunity to correct my errors: I would tell myself to be less distant from those in my charge. And more mindful of my own welfare… for my own sake, and for Ifan’s.” he finished, giving the Vow of Reason a reassuring smile.

His words were indeed reassuring. Based on what Ifan had told Koana of the Crystal Exarch, he seemed a near impossible man: one that had lived centuries and rewritten history to avert a Calamity in the Source and save the First from both Sin Eaters and itself. That someone like that stumbled, made errors, and would correct himself if he were able… It made the task of being Dawnservant less daunting. Certainly much more so knowing he could seek out people like G’raha and Ifan for assistance. “You give good counsel. I will keep it in mind: thank you, for bringing me some ease.” he said, giving an appreciative nod. “It is obvious why he values your company so highly. You seem very happy together.” observed Koana, smiling slightly to himself as he remembered the way Ifan’s face always lit up when he was speaking of the archon.

G’raha’s smile turned slightly bashful, his ears splaying in gratitude at Koana’s compliment. Then he gave the Hhetsarro a knowing smile. “I daresay the same applies to you and he, as well.” he said, wryly.

The Vow of Reason pursed his lips, one ear lowering awkwardly. Of course Ifan had already told him that they’d… But perhaps he hadn’t, and Koana was just poor at concealing it. He cleared his throat a little. “Is it so obvious?” he asked, chin lowering a little as his toes curled in his boots.

G’raha couldn’t help but chuckle at the look Koana had on his face. He tilted his head reassuringly. “Endearingly so. You need not be nervous.” he answered, ears flicking briefly as his tail curled. 

Koana felt his cheeks begin to burn a little. His gaze started to drift off to the side, finding the situation difficult to navigate. He swallowed. “...I would not wish to come between you.” It was a few moments before he realized his unintentional innuendo. His ears rose up as his expression fell, then he pouted as his ears splayed flat and tail curled in embarrassment.

Where Ifan would likely have teased him, G’raha blinked and pouted slightly to conceal a little smirk. Koana noted a faint tinge of pink appear upon the archon’s cheeks as his ears flicked back in amusement: a strangely boyish bearing for a man of G’raha’s true age, but one that suited him immensely. He made no comment on it, however, save a small chuckle. “Neither he nor I are of a sort to be jealous of our feelings.” he reassured. “I do not doubt his affection or loyalty, nor he mine. If anything, ‘tis all the sweeter seeing how happy you and my dear champion make one another.” he said, giving Koana a delighted grin.

An appreciative huff left Koana’s lips. He closed his eyes as his ears flicked back, nervousness ebbing thanks to G’raha’s quite comforting demeanor. “He does.” he admitted, with a nod. “He has been very patient with me, given my inexperience. I am curious how much he has told you.” added Koana, a little hesitantly.

G’raha’s face settled into a soothing smile. “Nothing specific; he and I respect the wishes of those that prefer discretion.” he explained.

Koana admitted that surprised him. Ifan seemed so casual with his bed… but then again, he’d not said anything about even the neck massage in Kozama’uka. Lamaty’i had no idea that he and Ifan were that close, nor were there rumors of a tryst between the Vow of Reason and the guest from overseas. Ifan kept his confidence, save to his partner, and even then he’d limited it to what was necessary. G’raha, too, was keeping Koana’s confidence.

It took him a few moments to identify the feeling, but Koana realized he felt safe around the pair. Neither of them judged or pushed him, and both sought to keep his trust. He’d barely spoken to the archon, and already he’d been given sage advice and reassurance. Koana felt lucky, too. His ears flicked, and he gave a very happy nod. “That is very considerate of him, and yourself. You have my thanks.” he stated, earnestly.

G’raha grinned at him warmly, and Koana felt a little swell within his chest at the delight on the Miqo’te’s face. “‘Tis no worry, I well remember being inexperienced. And I would wager that he does, as well. We were not always as certain of what we liked.” he added, glancing off to the side with wry amusement.

His words brought to mind something Ifan said, the night he and Koana kissed for the first time. The Vow of Reason felt his cheeks darken again. “He said you might like to kiss me.” he muttered, looking off towards the side.

The archon raised an eyebrow. Then he hummed as he looked Koana up and down, fighting a smirk. “My mighty champion is rarely wrong in that regard.” he admitted, giving the Vow of Reason a small wink before he chuckled at himself. 

Koana blinked furiously and pouted slightly, ears splaying back. He was far from used to one man flirting with him, let alone a second. Especially considering the second one was G’raha Tia, of all people. The Vow of Reason gave an awkward chuckle in return. “I will admit, this is not how I imagined a conversation with you, after reading your thesis.” he stated, ears relaxing.

G’raha’s ears shot up, all coyness vanished and replaced with incredulous delight. “Oh? You have read it?” he asked, giving Koana a wide grin as his tail curled happily.

The sudden shift in demeanor made Koana blink again, but he immediately returned a smile at seeing how thrilled the archon was. Just looking at him made the Hhetsarro feel warm. He nodded. “It was most thought-provoking. One of my favorites, in fact.” he said, his own ears giving a flick.

A happy huff left G’raha’s lips. “I should love to hear your thoughts on it! It has been an age since I have actually looked at it, myself.” he admitted, it likely being a literal age since having done so. 

Koana made to answer, but was interrupted by the shutting spell upon the door being disengaged. “Hope you’re hungry, ‘Raha.” said Ifan as he entered with a paper bag in hand: quite a big one. “Aunt Tii gave me extra-” he stopped and blinked as he caught sight of Koana, looking between him and G’raha. Then he scoffed, and gave a happy grin. “Well, if this isn’t a lovely surprise.” he proclaimed, closing the door and heading to set the bag down on the table. 

G’raha’s ears wiggled happily as he hefted himself up from where he leaned. “Welcome back, dear heart. Koana was being a most gracious host and entertaining me in your absence.” he explained, giving Koana another smile. 

Ifan glanced at Koana, then smiled thankfully in turn. “Sounds about right.” he chuckled. Then he walked up to the archon and leaned down for a kiss, meeting G’raha’s lips languidly.

Koana pursed his lips a little and looked away while the pair kissed. His eyebrow rose, however, as their lips parted and Ifan moved over to him. “Hey, you.” he greeted, and leaned down to kiss Koana in turn. The Vow of Reason’s ears and tail shot up at being kissed in front of Ifan’s partner, but the Hyur’s familiar feel and scent had him relaxed enough that he returned it. He glanced at G’raha as Ifan stood up, and flushed at the small wink that the Miqo’te gave him. 

The Vow of Reason cleared his throat, then looked up at the Warrior of Light. “Ifan. Good day to you.” he greeted, wincing slightly at his formality considering the circumstances.

Ifan smiled down at him, reaching up to give his nose a little tap. “And you. Thank you for taking care of my dear lord, I apologize for interrupting.” he said, glancing over at G’raha.

G’raha shook his head. “We were just about to discuss my old thesis.” he stated, looking at Koana with clear intent to dredge him for his thoughts on Allag. He hummed, then glanced at the large bag. “If there is extra food… Would you wish to join us for lunch, Koana? You have my curiosity rather piqued, regarding your thoughts.” His ears flicked in excitement as he extended his invitation.

Ifan let out a teasing groan. “Here we go. Someone mentioned Allag around G’raha Tia.” he laughed, then stuck his tongue out at G’raha in retaliation for the latter doing the same. Koana had to chuckle at the sight of the two men doing so. Then Ifan turned his gaze back to Koana with a happy grin. “Well?” he asked. “I wouldn’t mind spending a little more time with you as well, dear prince, if you can spare it.” Then he reached up to brush his thumb against Koana’s chin.

It struck Koana then just how at ease he felt. He had no pressing tasks, the carne asada in the paper bag smelled heavenly, and the company of these two men was equal parts thrilling and comforting. He had a lot of thoughts on The Decline and Fall of the Allagan Empire , and sitting down to talk about it with its author and his partner sounded wonderful. Ifan seemed much happier than he had done up on the balcony, and while he wasn’t sure if he’d talked to Krile or G’raha about his misgivings yet, it also seemed Koana himself had helped immensely, much as Ifan and G’raha had for him. 

It was strange. Normally he felt so tightly wound, like if he let his guard down then a spring would fly free of some clockwork mechanism that would jam and catch on fire. But right now, he felt he was in good hands. So he gave a grin, and let his ears wiggle openly before he nodded. “As it so happens… I may have some time to spare.”

[softpascalito]

I Baby, I'm Your National Anthem I 2003!DBF!Joel Miller I

Summary: You are back from college for the summer and your family happens to throw the annual Fourth of July Barbecue for your street. Your next-door neighbor and dad's best friend Joel Miller is invited—and you decide to wear a bold outfit. It definitely catches his attention.

Pairing: 2003!DBF!Joel Miller x F!Reader Rating: Explicit / MDNI Word count: 3.3k Tags: Explicit, Smut, Age Difference, Pre-Cordyceps Outbreak, Fourth of July, DBF!Joel, Fingering, P in V Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Pool Sex, Unsafe Sex, Dirty Talk, Biting, Teasing, Making Out, Outdoor Sex, Alcohol (like two beers)

AO3 LINK // Masterlist

notes: i saw one (1) tiktok with this fucking glorious fourth of july outfit and somehow this happened. consider this fanfic to be my application to be invited to your 4th of july party next year (yes, you specifically). enjoy the filth <3 (also highly recommend listening to national anthem by lana while reading!)

The sound of the sprinklers rotating on the lawn in front of your window and the slamming of a truck door alerted you that your father was back with the last minute groceries. You quickly got up, heading out to the driveway to help carry the brown bags.

“Take those first, it’s ice cream for the kids. Don’t want it melting,” he advised as he busied himself with grabbing the cooler off the truck bed, disappearing towards the garden, the fence running along it already decorated with red, white and blue, matching the tablecloths and flags hung from the large tree in your backyard to the porch.

You had just got back from college for the summer and had been more than ready to enjoy your time off as you usually did, by lounging in the sun behind your house or going for a swim in the neighbor’s pool. The honeymoon phase of holidays, before they turned into the unavoidable boredom that followed once all reunions had been completed and, at the same time, reminded you precisely why you’d gotten out of the small neighborhood in Austin at your first chance.

The bag you’d brought home was still on the floor in your room, barely half unpacked. Sitting on top of it was the outfit you had picked out weeks ago—at the precise moment your father had called to let you know it was your family's turn to host your street's traditional barbecue on the Fourth of July.

A blue and white checkered bikini, the bottoms made of much less fabric than you’d ever seen sold in Austin. A pair of shorts that seemed barely bigger, cut low enough to give a peak of the set below—and a crop top, the words ‘Miss America’ splayed across your chest in curved, red letters, complete with two red bows attached to the straps. You were certain that, if your father still had a say in your clothing choices, this would not go—and that was precisely why it was perfect. If your father hated it, so would his best friend.

Joel Miller had been little more than your kind next-door neighbor for years—until you’d come back from college for your first break. Suddenly, you questioned how for years you’d been able to miss the way his shirt strained over his broad shoulders or the small grunts that left him when he was tinkering with his truck in the driveway.

You ignored your father’s muttered comments about your outfit as you returned to the kitchen a few minutes later and busied yourself with the last few preparations.

“It’s what all the girls at college wear.” He shook his head but stayed quiet.

Joel and Sarah arrived a little later than the other guests, greeting your father as they stepped into the backyard and you caught something about a mess-up at the construction site as the two men embraced. You turned your attention towards Sarah, who excitedly asked your opinion about her new sneakers and didn’t run off to join the other kids playing football at the far end of the backyard until you reassured her that they were indeed very cool, throwing in a comment about how you’d seen someone at University wear them—making her positively beam.

You turned towards the house just in time to see Joel’s eyes land on you. Oh boy.

His gaze trailed down your body, tracing your curves, no doubt taking in the shape of your body. It took him a few moments to snap out of it, shifting as his gaze returned to your face before he hesitantly crossed the space between you. The polite, strained expression on his face told you exactly how hard he was trying to keep his eyes from wandering.

“Back from college then?” he asked, clearly keeping the conversation light. Though you did like to think, unlike many others, that he actually wanted to know. That he cared.

“For the summer,” you responded, smiling up at him innocently, still aware of his eyes on you.

“How d’you like it?” Joel placed a hand on his hip, looking at you expectantly.

“It's good. A little exhausting sometimes. Lots of studying.” You grinned as you saw him raise a brow.

“Studying, eh?” There was something twinkling in his eyes, a certain sense of mischief you hadn't seen in him before. “That what all the kids do up there these days?”

“That and a few parties,” you admitted with a small smirk. “You know, finding the balance of life. But college boys are—”

Both your heads flew around as you heard your dad call your name and for a second, your heart felt like it stopped. You'd wanted to tease Joel by talking about college boys, not reveal your love life to your father. But clearly, he hadn't heard. “Get Joel a beer, will you?”

Joel opened his mouth—but then he shook his head. His voice sounded strained as he spoke. “Beer sounds good.”

You led him towards the cooler, reaching down to grab two bottles, handing one to him. A bemused smile played around his lips as he nodded towards the bottle still clutched in your hand. “Your old man letting you sneak beers?”

“He doesn't have to,” you said with a satisfied smirk, grabbing the bottle opener and handing it to him. “Turned twenty-one this spring.”

You could see Joel's hand shaking slightly as he opened his beer before motioning for you to give him yours and doing the same for you. “Quite the gentleman,” you mumbled, taking in the way his green flannel sat a bit too tight around his broad chest.

“You don't know half of it.”

During the afternoon, the light blue sky seemed to be celebrating the holiday as much as the people below it. The barbecue was fired up by your father, the other fathers gathering around as he explained the new, improved features, making you roll your eyes. You drifted back and forth between the adults and the children, joining the latter for a few rounds of football until the sun began to set.

Joel kept his distance and, with a slightly heavy heart, you followed his lead. He was rather quiet but still, you could see his eyes flying towards you occasionally. You began to wonder if you had miscalculated.

When the salad bowl ran low for the second time, you volunteered yourself to head inside to refill it. You had barely placed it on the kitchen counter when you felt him standing in the doorway, leaning casually against the dark wood. His eyes trailed down your form more slowly than before, leaving no doubt in your mind that the outfit had fulfilled its purpose of getting his attention.

“Quite a party.” His gaze was still not meeting yours, lingering on your chest.

“Wait until they bring out the fireworks. My dad bought enough to light up the whole street.” Your voice shook slightly as you spoke.

Joel shook his head, a tiny smile forming on his face as he stepped forward. “Ain’t what I meant.” His hand brushed over your thigh and you sent an anxious glimpse out the window, making sure that you weren't in anyone's line of sight.

“It's a pretty bikini,” Joel mumbled, lowering his voice. His thumb was brushing over the checkered fabric where it peeked out from under your shorts. “Shame you aren't taking a swim in it.”

An involuntary breath left your throat as you felt his free hand coming up to your face, nudging your chin up slightly. You couldn't remember ever being so close to him, your brain going into overdrive as it tried to figure out which part of his face to commit to memory first. Desire burned in your core brighter than ever and between that and the beer possibly clouding your judgment, you bit your lip, sending the man in front of you a shy smile and yet abandoning all care. You'd be back to college in a few weeks. If this went wrong, you'd never have to speak to him again.

“Is that an offer?”

“Damn sure is, darling,” Joel mused, his hand squeezing your hip and you let out a small breath of relief.

You thanked all your lucky stars for the architect who had built your house some 50 years ago—and had clearly taken into account that you would one day need to sneak out the back door with your dads best friend—preferably without being seen. It faced towards the high fence that separated your yard from the Miller’s, making it feel almost too easy for the two of you to sneak off.

You hadn’t even reached the pool when you dropped your shirt and pants to the floor, making Joel whistle lowly behind you. “I was right. It is a fucking pretty bikini.” You felt your cheeks flush at the compliment, his eyes still raking over your body as his clothes joined yours on the floor, leaving him in only his boxers.

You’d seen him shirtless a few times. When you'd brought over something you had borrowed and he was in the pool or the one time you'd been over to help Sarah with some homework and he'd just gotten out of the shower, a beige towel wrapped around his waist. You’d felt like some fucking creep when you had recalled the sight of his naked chest, and the trail of hair leading further down, at night and slipped a hand between your own thighs, thinking that you stood no chance with the man who was frequently whispered about by the single ladies of the neighbourhood, despite rarely showing interest in them.

You lowered yourself into the water and felt it ripple around you as Joel followed. The next moment, he was beside you, pushing you towards the other edge of the pool, strong arms caging you in on either side. You could still hear the party going on behind the fence, voices and music, the smell of barbecue drifting through the air. And a few lights—tiny holes in the fence allowing them to travel through, the warm glow reflecting on the surface of the pool.

Joel growled as he nipped at your skin, hard enough that you already knew it'd leave marks. Good.

“Can't let you go back to college without something to remind you of me,” he muttered and you sucked in a breath in response, the words going straight to your core. His teeth scraped over the notch between your collarbones and you felt a moan begin to travel up your throat. Before it could escape however, Joel's hand clasped firmly over your mouth, forcing you to breathe through your nose as your eyes widened slightly.

“Don't want your dad hearing us, do you?” Joel muttered and indeed you could hear the voice of your father booming through the night air as he delivered some punchline to a no doubt stupid joke. You shook your head softly and that seemed to satisfy Joel because the next moment, his hand left your mouth and began to slide down your body, trailing over it the same way his eyes had earlier tonight. Your breath hitched in your throat as you felt his index finger circle drawing shapes on your hip before slipping under your bikini, brushing past your clit and settling between your folds.

“Hard to tell in here but feels like you’re wet for me,” Joel muttered with a grin and you bit your lip, voice hoarse as you tried to keep quiet.

“Took you long enough to notice,” you teased—and the reaction was immediate. He pushed you further against the side of the pool, trapping you with his broad body.

“Watch it.” His index finger moved upwards—and the next moment, your walls were clenching around it, already begging for more. You felt a second finger drawing large circles around your clit again—when a noise on the other side of the fence made both of you pause, heads swiveling around just in time to see a football land on the lawn.

He cursed under his breath, pushing himself off you and dragging you to the end of the pool least visibly from the house. The deck was raised high enough above the water that if you squeezed yourself against the wall, you just may not be seen—especially in the dark. Once he had pushed you into the corner, he was about to follow when your eyes widened. “Joel, the clothes,” you whispered in a panicked voice.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath and crossed the pool in a few strokes, climbing back onto the porch. You watched, holding your breath, as he looked around, finally locating two towels and throwing one over the mixed pile of clothes and wrapping the other around his waist. No second too late, because the next moment one of the men who had marveled at your dads new barbecue earlier strode over the lawn. “Miller, hey! What’re you doing out here?”

Even in the water, you felt your knees go weak. Joel was dripping wet, his cheeks flushed—your only hope was that the other man was either too drunk or too stupid to realize what was happening.

“Heard something thud against the wall.” You heard Joel respond. “Was just taking a shower, Tony spilled his beer all over my shirt earlier.”

The other man let out a small laugh. “Yeah, he’s wasted.” You couldn't see him from where you were standing but you heard him pick up the ball as an idea popped into your head. You shifted slightly, knowing your movement would be visible to Joel, who was still in your sight—and after a moment, you held up your bikini bottoms, smiling innocently. Joel's eyes flickered towards you for a split second—and even in the dark you could see his body tense, adjusting the towel around his waist as the veins on his neck bulged with restraint.

Footsteps told you the other man was leaving, until they paused again. His voice rang through the yard once more. To your horror, it was your name that filled the air. “Do you know where she went? Her father was looking for her I think.”

Joel's face twitched before he forced himself to smile. “No clue. Maybe calling a secret college boyfriend.”

He waited until the man's laughter had drifted away and joined with the noises of the party again before he dropped the towel, his cock straining at the fabric of his boxers.

As soon as he was back in the pool, he was upon you, cowering over you with a hard expression on his face, snatching the small piece of fabric from your hand. “Think it’s fucking funny?” He muttered, his eyes flying over your face. 

The alcohol was definitely having an effect on you because you grinned, nodding weakly. “A little bit.”

Joel actually fucking growled at that.

He made short work of your bikini top, yanking it off to gather your breasts in his large hands, squeezing slightly. “That fucking mouth of yours, darling.”

“Should shut me up,” you muttered back and his eyes briefly searched yours before his mouth was on yours. Neither of you were gentle, much too impatient for soft kisses. His tongue slipped into your mouth, his teeth grazed over your lip and you could feel the vibrations of his groans traveling right from his throat into yours.

When he broke the kiss, you whined in protest, wrapping your own arms around him to pull him closer, making him groan as his still covered cock brushed against your stomach. “Goddamn, baby, you gonna let me fuck you?”

Joel didn't even flinch when you softly bit down on his earlobe. “Like you have to ask, Miller.”

His last name seemed to do as much to him as it did to you because his hands briefly left your sides to yank his boxers down, throwing them carelessly onto the lawn behind you. “Get your ass up here,” he commanded as he hoisted you up and you automatically wrapped your legs around his waist, feeling his cock nudge at your entrance.

Joel swallowed and you could see him struggling to restrain himself. “Do you want me to go and get-”

“Got it covered,” you said impatiently before he could even finish the sentence.

“You sure?” He asked again and you nodded impatiently. And then he was finally pushing his hips upwards, his cockhead parting your lips, requesting entrance. You let your body fall into his rhythm, sinking down on him, forcing a whimper from your throat.

You barely heard the shuffling behind the fence and the voices getting more muted as the party seemed to be moved towards the street, further away from you.

“It ain’t your first time, is it, sweetheart?” Joel suddenly piped up, watching your expression carefully and you could distinctly hear the note of concern in his voice. But you shook your head.

“Told you,” you breathed out. “College boys.”

“This gonna be better than any damn college boy,” Joel mumbled, a grunt leaving his throat as he began to thrust up into you properly, driving any worry out of your mind.

“You knew what you were doing to me tonight?” He muttered, causing you to shake your head despite the fact that you knew exactly, even planned, to do it to him. You wanted to give a snarky response, something smart, but you could barely think straight with his cock nestled so deep inside of you.

“Made me hard all throughout dinner, thinking about all the things i could do with you,” Joel answered his own question before changing his angle slightly, his arms wrapped tightly around you. “Fuck, doing so good for me, darling.”

“Joel—” you choked out, feeling the orgasm that had been lingering for what felt like forever now approaching rapidly. “Want you to come inside, please—”

His eyes darkened as he nodded. And then, suddenly a sparkling light reflected in his eyes—followed by a loud bang far above you. The fireworks had started.

It only took a few more thrusts and Joel's finger returning to your clit to send you rushing towards your orgasm, your fingernails scratching over his back so hard that you were certain you were not going to be the only one with something to remember tomorrow.

“Come on,” Joel edged you on. “Show me how pretty you look coming on my cock, baby.”

And you did, groaning as your body tensed, the feeling inside your stomach so similar to the exploding fireworks above, with Joel following suit, obeying your wish and spilling himself deep inside of you as you clung on to him, so content to finally, finally carry him so deep inside, the thought traveling right to your core again as he gathered you in his arms, both of you tilting your heads back enough to watch the sky above sparkle in different colors.

“Happy fourth, Joel.”

He pressed a kiss to your cheek. “Happy fucking fourth, darling.”

He gathered the clothes in his arms, whispering promises and praise as he led you up the stairs to his bathroom, having insisted to at least get you clean before letting you sneak back home. His hands brushed over your naked skin, causing you to raise a brow. “I thought we were gonna take a shower?” “Oh, I'm not nearly done with you,” Joel muttered in your ear, causing you to smirk. You reached for your clothes but Joel only gave a small tut. “You’ll get them back. Just not—” He raised the checkered bikini bottom. “This. I’m keeping that.”

thank you for reading! every time you leave a comment, a firework explodes over joel miller fucking in a pool btw :)

[riddler-green]

Tea for three. Prologue

Summary: You have been a patient/prisoner of Arkham for several months since you were charged with a crime you did not commit. But what happens when you meet Batman's latest enemy? the man of the hour? In which you help Batman on his cases, you're Edward's new favorite person, and Jonathan is part of your past that you want so badly to return to.

Edward Nashton x reader, Bruce Wayne x reader, Jonathan Crane x reader.

A/n: Holaaa everyone! here I am posting another story that I thought of in a sleepless night, I think it's one of my most ambitious fics that I've been planning but that makes it cooler! I should clarify that this fanfic is mixed with the 2022 movie with the Nolan saga (but in such a minuscule way that it's barely imperceivable). I'm back from my vacation so I'll update my other work soon! ♡

I also want to clarify that English is not my first language, so an apologize for the spelling mistakes. ✧˖°. (My English is rusty :´p).

(Also this fanfic is published on AO3) ✿

Warning: Fluff and angst, Obsessive Behavior, Canon Compliant (the flood occurred, sorry) Movie spoiler (Batman 2022) if there is another warning I did not put, please let me know.

Words: 5,400

You stroll as two guards lead you to a room, you don't know where they are taking you but it's not like you could complain either. The guards behind you ignored you all the way chatting with each other as if they were not watching an Arkham patient, they let you into the individual visiting room. Still, you nicknamed it the interrogation room because you only come here when that person requests your presence.

You sit down without a problem in the stiff metal chair, the approving noise of the iron partition sounds throughout the place, and you hear one of the guards closing the door leaving you alone with him.

At first, it was tedious, even traumatic in a way to come to this room to talk to the person who captured you and brought you to Arkham without hesitation. You couldn't refuse to see him, not when the caped man is a colleague of an important commissioner. No matter how many times you told him, how many times you yelled at him that you were innocent, he either didn't believe you or just wouldn't listen. You got tired of telling everyone around you that it wasn't your fault, none of them listened to you.

The metal partition rises completely, and little by little you see the almost imperceptible figure of the knight of the night. He kept silent without sitting down, standing in front of you analyzing you as everyone does nowadays, but you no longer care what he thinks of you, you are practically a hopeless case for him.

"Hello?" your greeting sounded confusing, you were not expecting a visit from him, but you have an idea why he comes to you, on certain occasions he shows you cases of different indoles, also that he has found some clue of the…

"I'm looking for the Riddler" He doesn't greet you and moves closer to the glass that separates them, you can take a better look at him, he's still the same since the last time you saw him, his attire nor his face have changed at all, but you notice something different in his voice, is it tiredness you hear?

"The Riddler?" you look at him unclear as to what he means "Who is that?".

"A serial killer" he informs you, you often hear those terrible words from him, how often does Batman chase killers like that, it's like there's one every week, it's cruel but it's the truth, Gotham is the cradle of evil, hell on earth, some would say.

"And what have I got to do with him?" you ask hesitantly.

Batman leaves a gray folder in the crack that connects the two rooms as if it were a mailbox "I need to know your perspective".

For a moment you thought about rejecting whatever is in that folder, but your curiosity won you over, you slowly grabbed the folder somewhat heavy because of the many sheets stored, on the cover of the folder you can see a CLASSIFIED in capital letters, that fuels your interest even more and you open the folder.

It's a lot to take in at once, you open your eyes from the initial shock, you haven't seen so much blood since your clinical internship days, you close the folder for a few seconds to recover, and you look Batman in the eye with a frown, he didn't even warn you how grotesque the case could be. 

Batman looks back at you completely seriously, he looks immutable and silent. You open the folder again and are greeted by the same disturbing images "Wow, it's something " you comment uneasily.

You see the evidence, black and white photos of the murders stapled to the autopsy reports, it is amazing how this man can have such information. the more time you spend reading the events and the evidence the more disturbed you become. 

Mayor Don Mitchell Jr, mayor of Gotham for several years, you saw him once at a social event done by Gotham University, he was happy and smiling maybe because of the excess alcohol in his veins. but now you look at the crime scene, his face completely wrapped in duct tape.

"No more lies..." you whisper reading the message on the corpse of the mayor, then that was with an already established motive, to give a statement.

On the other hand, Commissioner Savage's body is barely recognizable, the cage on his head says it all.

This is no ordinary killer.

What have you gotten yourself into, batman?

"why are you showing me this?" you manage to ask him even with the murders fresh in your mind, you don't think you will sleep tonight.

The already-seated masked man repeats to you "I need to know your perspective".

"As a patient or as a psychologist?" technically you can no longer practice your career since they took away your degree, but he doesn't correct you, you peruse everything that was offered, the riddles, the pictures of all the letters he has left for Batman, descriptions of the crime scene, write-ups of the witnesses who found the bodies.

"Both" he declares.

The handcuffs on your wrists do not give you much freedom to move your arms but do not prevent you from handling the documents in the folder, if Batman thought this might interest you he was right, for better or worse you did not stop seeing file after file.

"How extravagant," you say your first impressions "Brusque with his victims, he really is angry" You turn the page to see the pictures of his riddles "But he is also ingenious, this is not prepared from one day to another, he has been planning this for a long time, I would say years".

"Angry at who?" the man in front of you asks but you don't answer him instantly, you take your time carefully reading all the research, it's a lot for only one killer and few victims, but it's nothing that can be used to find him.

"With the world" you turn the page to see Commissioner Savage's crime scene photo "The pattern is evident, the mayor...the commissioner...does not kill ordinary civilians." 

"Do you think it's political?".

You barely smile at the mere idea that this is just politics "No, this is too intimate for him, riddles are an essential part of his life that he knows how to use to his advantage...and I only come to one conclusion..." you shut up and rearrange the documents to close the folder. 

"What is it?" batman questions you with intrigue in his voice.

You see him again, he must be desperate somehow to find this Riddler who asks for the opinions of third parties, of "crazy" people like you, something he dislikes, he prefers to work alone, that's his emblem. Deep down it angers you to no end, he hasn't caught your living nightmare and he's already looking for another asshole.

"That" you passed him the folder through the crack in the partition between rooms, and he retrieves it in his hands "Is revenge, Batman, and a very wicked one."

"Give me a diagnosis" he speaks faster, and the anger starts to seep into his face and it satisfies you to sometimes see him like this, frustrated Batman...yeah that's a first.

you smile and relax in your stiff metal seat "You should ask Dr. Crane for that, he's more prepared than I am, don't you think?".

"He refused" You'd know he'd turn it down, he's not like Batman or you, he doesn't even like to play Clue.

"yeah, he doesn't have the hobby of playing detective" you shrug your shoulders "I can't give you a diagnosis because it's little, he has left only what he wants us to know, maybe he includes you in this because he admires you or because he wants to kill you, who knows" you blurt out everything you think without any shame, in your mind you are already putting together a criminal profile with only what he gave you, but you won't tell him that, he doesn't deserve your help.

The masked man's posture tenses and he begins to clench his fists, your smile grows. 

"all that, all those little clues he leaves you make me think this is all a big riddle on his part" You pointed to the folder held by one of his gloved hands.

"I don't think he's going to stop until he sees everyone on his list dead."

What you told him seemed to affect him, because he suddenly gets up and goes to the door without looking at you, and he found no news "I can't waste time" he whispers with disdain, he leaves the room and you stand watching the door where he left.

So it's a riddle against the clock, huh? you think.

The sky in Gotham looks like a landscape worthy to take a picture of, from here you can see the buildings of different heights, the traffic between highways, and the bridges, even if you force your sight you can see people walking.

"Do you like the view?".

You continue to look through the window reinforced with bars and tempered glass, the bars cover part of the landscape but you can still admire the beautiful gray sky full of clouds ready to rain.

"yes..." you say putting your hands between the bars without stopping to think how happy you would be just to be out of this abyss. you didn't appreciate the beauty of the freedom you had before you were here.

"What do you like most about the view?".

You take a few seconds to respond, the handcuffs on your wrists started to itch on your skin, that itch so normalized on your skin that you don't do much to get rid of that itch, you didn't look away from the window, this simple reinforced window brought you comfort for all these months.

"Everything."

"You hear the voice of your therapist repeat your answer and nod, will your cafeteria still be open? The Gotham Library will have finally added new books? the university will have already changed that horrible lamp in one of your favorite classrooms? 

Batman already caught the Riddler?

"What a good answer actually, but I need you to sit down for a further conversation, soon the session will be over" The doctor's professional tone makes you tense up, you feel like you are not talking to a human but to a fucking robot, that's how you have thought them since you were imposed to this therapist.

You listen to what you say and sit in the other chair where you are supposed to be for the whole session, however, Mr. M has let you have the sessions while you watch from the only window, you are grateful for that, even if you didn't like him at all.

"I have been informed about your good behavior this week, if you continue like this you can be given more access through the hospital" Mr.M speaks calmly looking through several documents held by a wooden board.

Fuck you, you thought but didn't tell him, you don't have the luxury of being rude to him. you'll never get the same freedom you got when you were still an average citizen of Gotham and it saddens you, it makes your blood boil to remember every moment of your existence that you're here unjustly.

"Thank you" You speak as little as possible because you know you would break down in tears just remembering that you are another day of your life wasted locked up among so many criminals.

"But" Mr.M stops looking at his documents to turn to look at you "I was also told that you refuse to take your medication, why is that?".

"Why don't I need them" you speak cuttingly again, the itch in your wrists grows and you scratch with your fingernails without realizing it.

"you have to take his medicine...it will make your recovery process more enjoyable" he grabs his tablet with documents and writes again, Mr.M does not scold you but you perceive it like this, you want to go back to your cell, you feel so ashamed that your skin gets hot, how did you come to this? How did you fall so low that you are the one they have to medicate? 

"Fine" you lie to him, you dislike the taste of the medicine they force you to take, you know perfectly well what they prescribe you, you studied for it after all.

But everyone seems to forget that.

Only Batman can recognize your abilities, but he does not help you at all in your case.

And well, you paranoidly believe that Jonathan is only talking to you out of unconscious guilt.

"Okey" Mr. M gives a soft smile "Just one last question before our time is up" he checks the time on his wrist watch "Have you made a new friend? Have you managed to get along with anyone?".

You avoid the gaze of your therapist "No" you denied, another issue you don't want to address, your notorious loneliness in this hospital. If it weren't for your unique best friend who works here, you would be all alone.

"Why?."

You don't answer him, you also question the same thing, you haven't had an interest to socialize with the other patients since you arrived, and there are still things that are not clear to you.

Mr. M sighs dropping his papers in a file cabinet near him "Well, I'll leave it as homework for you to start seeing new people, making a friend sounds excellent."

"I'll try" You don't lie to him.

"Perfect."

It's been a day since Batman visited you and you had your weekly session with Mr.M, you haven't been able to sleep due to the tremendous curiosity of the new assassin the bat is looking for.

Just when you thought nothing could surprise you in this city since your accident, along comes a man with a question mark and puts the whole city in check, that's the city to him, a colossal chessboard, the DPGC, the Gotham elite, the citizens, they are all pieces in the game, and Batman and he are the only players.

Batman said he didn't have time, Does that mean that he has to catch him these days? how curious, with the Joker, it took months to find him, you were only intercepted in a couple of hours, and the Scarecrow...

no, you don't want to think about him.

You get distracted thinking about the Riddler again, you do your daily service arranging books in the small library of Arkham, your safe place where few or no people stop around these parts, here it is not necessary to use your wrist and neck cuffs, but your uniform is still on, and the plastic bracelet with your information identify you as a patient.

You yawn as you place a couple of worn-out books on the shelf, you felt like a bookstore worker, sometimes you usually fantasize that you are one to take away your boredom, but others usually burst your dreamy bubble.

Today, one of the guards decided to turn on the old-fashioned TV set in one of the upper corners of the library, you stand near a bookcase to see what channel they put on this time, usually they only put on the sports channel to watch the game of the moment.

But on this occasion, the guard put on the news channel, and you immediately put down the books you have to accommodate to concentrate on what is shown on TV.

The guard is still standing and so are you, both watching a live breaking news broadcast. The news anchor reports a new Riddler attack.

He bombed a prosecutor at the mayor's funeral.

The guard's face looked more and more frightened, you watched the news with morbid curiosity. Batman's new opponent seems more sadistic than you thought, that detailed report confirmed it.

But seeing their repeated acts on TV was shocking, you even heard the guard who put on the news say in a low voice " We are doomed. "

You silently agree with him, for the first time you are relieved to be locked away from all the chaos going on right now.

You saw how the explosion managed to reach Batman, surprising you as the guard, the man takes off his distinctive security guard hat when he sees the video, on the other hand, you are still stunned, not believing it, somehow you forgot that this man dressed in black and wearing a cape is still a human of flesh and blood, he simply can't die like that, not when he has things to save, people to capture.

He hasn't found your living nightmare yet.

Before you pull your hair out in frustration the news anchor states that Batman is still alive, the guard satisfied by the information puts his cap back on and returns to his guard position which is the entrance to the library.

You are still looking at the report, and suddenly the image of the man who calls himself the Riddler appears. You hadn't seen him in such detail until this moment, the photos in the Batman report were extremely blurry images, but this time he is in HD, he is completely wrapped in green clothes, and the only thing you can see of him, is his eyes. 

His voice is altered but you can notice that venomous tone of his he asked prosecutor Gil Colson some riddles, but in the end, he couldn't answer what Riddler wanted.

You sigh while grab another couple of books and start arranging them one by one. If Batman is still alive it means this isn't over.

"I knew I would find you here".

"It's not like I can go many places" You smile slightly turning to look at the man who spoke to you. 

Jonathan Crane, the living legend of the hospital, with tailored suits, no wrinkles in his coat, and a well-made tie that matches the sweater he wears under his coat. There isn't a single time you haven't seen Jonathan without his perfect appearance but maybe it's just you idealizing as usual. 

Jonathan gives you a polite smile "Right" Just by hearing that you know he won't stay to chat for long, he tends to contradict you most of the time just to annoy you and agree with you when he's busy.

"Are you coming to get a book?" you ask him the first thing that comes to mind.

"No, I wanted to talk to you before I left," he says adjusting his glasses "I'm going away for a couple of weeks to blüdhaven University to give lectures, it will be a simple thing" Your smile doesn't falter, you are touched that he lets you know when he won't be able to see you, and how he manages to keep the conversation so casual. 

As if they were still colleagues.

"Is that so? What will you talk about?".

"Childhood traumas" he reveals looking at you without any shyness, he has a barely perceptible smile but you notice it. 

"why am I not surprised?" you resume your work in arranging books "Although you know how to pick interesting topics, I wish I could attend" You recognize that Jonathan has been too devoted to his work and student life, he is that kind of strict professor who gives his students nightmares from the assignments and exams he gives. His lectures are fascinating, to say the least, you attended many.

"I'll tell you about it when I get back, in the meantime" From inside his suit he pulls out a  flyer in half "It's something extremely summarized but it'll do" You take the piece of paper and stuff it in one of your pockets. It's not the first time Jonathan smuggles things to you, god, you can even be sure he gives you something every time you see each other. 

"Thank you" you thanked looking at his face, he also remains silent looking at you, the eye contact between you is not something out of another world either, on your part, it's a habit that started when you were still studying, you can't help but want to observe everyone around you, analyze them somehow, see their behavior.

Jonathan does the same, but more rigorous and practical, he is direct and not afraid to say it, you see his hair combed to his liking, his glasses clean without any smudge, his eyes examining you. 

You leave your admiring mode when you diverted your gaze a little to the old TV that is still on, the news keeps showing the latest events of the hours, repeating the most recent crime of Riddler.

Your smile dims as you recall the video of the explosion, the prosecutor begging for mercy and the bomb stuck in his chest.

"Did you see what happened at the mayor's funeral?" you whisper to him in a low voice trying not to let anyone hear them, you look with your eyes for the guard on duty but you can't find him, Jonathan must have asked him for some privacy time, at times you forget the influence that the man in front of you has generated with years and effort.

He turns his head for a few seconds watching the news on TV and turns to look at you again with a sensible and neutral face. 

"yes, I saw it, I was there when it happened".

"What?" you utter with surprise "You were there?" there was no sign of a lie on his face to make you think he wasn't telling you the truth.

"Some teachers from the university we went to give condolences when the show happened" Jonathan clarifies simply, you approach him to talk closer, he doesn't seem upset "So it's true? Riddler attacked that prosecutor?".

"He killed him."

You shut up for a moment because of his statement, it's true, Riddler killed him, and almost Batman too.

"And Batman? Did you see him in action?" at this point you sound like first-rate gossip, but still Jonathan answers your questions, but is no longer as pleased doing so, the moment you mention Batman. 

"He arrived when most of the people had already been evacuated."

"Wow" you blurt out surprised, if you didn't know him better you would have been uneasy with his calmness when talking about the experience, he says it without any fear because that's exactly what's so special about Jonathan in your eyes, he's not afraid of anything.   

"Batman looked you up, didn't he?" Jonathan changes the subject quickly and you nod your head, you move away from his side to reach for a cart full of books to be arranged "He wanted my opinion on the riddler, can you believe it?" you laugh "I told him to look you up better, but you turned him down."

"That's right" he assures leaning on one of the bookcases for comfort, he looks at you picking up a book and you place it among several other books on another bookcase "I don't lend myself to that sort of thing".

"I know, killjoy Crane" you scoff boldly.

"Whatever you say" he sighs "I have to go, there will be a meeting at the university" Before you could say goodbye properly, he approaches you to give you an extremely momentary hug, it was so fast that you couldn't return the hug because he had already separated from you. You swore you could smell some of his cologne.

"uh yeah, see ya" You are barely able to utter the words without getting over the small contact they made, he has said goodbye to you like this, but you are still not used to it.

Jonathan smiles at you picking up his briefcase that you didn't see in the first place, walks to one of the tables where the TV control is, picks it up, and turns off the TV "I don't like you watching that" he tells you already heading for the exit where the guard re-enters the library.

You wrinkle your forehead due to irritation. Sometimes you don't understand Jonathan.

You genuinely thought your head was going to explode from the pain. 

Being in Arkham meant being cut off from the outside, you had no idea of the chaos that erupted overnight, the perverse game of Batman and Riddler was so forceful, that Arkham unexpectedly came into the spotlight when the green-masked man was captured. An alert in your head went off when you heard from a very nervous guard. You thought it was almost impossible for Batman to catch Riddler, and that he's here being processed to this hospital gives a lot to suspect.

The report Batman showed you are not wrong, the madman of riddles is too elusive to be caught in such a short time.

Why? You ask yourself, why did he let himself be defeated?

The hospital was in chaos with the arrival of the new patient in the middle of the night, nurses running around, and security guards moving patients to different cells temporarily, you were taken out of your small cell to another one just as small and almost the same.

Even with suspicion in your being, you don't understand what all the fuss was about, not even when they paraded the Joker through the main hall in a straitjacket as if he were a villain from some movie did they get as upset as they are now with Riddler.  

You sat on your new bed just as hard as the one in your previous cell, not wanting to catch the social panic you try to meditate, Mr. M advised you to do so and since then you put it into practice.

Maintaining a state of relaxation is difficult but you have practiced it for months, you started the breathing exercises, and as you slowly inhale and exhale your thoughts begin to melt one after the other, calming you down, and making your anxiety about all the fuss disappear.

You exhale again and inhale hard again, you could be doing this all day, you have nothing to worry about, you're in your world, locked away from society, and must be recovering from whatever Riddler did as his closing snap.

You open your eyes and stop doing your breathing exercises, you hear a laugh. But not just any laughter, but a loud and annoying laughter, you instantly get up from your bed and run towards the door with a small glass window. The laughter was not your imagination, and you can recognize it now that you are closer to the door.

You don't see any guards guarding this section of cells, how strange. The laughter continues unabated. It must be some neighbor of your cell because of the proximity of the noise and you have an idea of who it might be but you ignore it for only a few minutes, you can't take it anymore and yell "Can you shut up for once?".

Your cell neighbor stops laughing and you can finally feel at peace, but instead starts a conversation.

"Scarecrow?" you close your eyes just hearing that horrible nickname he gave you at some point during his hospital stay. relatively the two have been in Arkham for a similar amount of time, both trapped by Batman and calling them the dark knight's worst enemies. 

But you could never compare yourself to someone like him Joker. 

You had a chance to get to know each other when you let him participate in common activities, you don't want to remember the first time you spoke to each other, it ended badly, period.

"Don't call me that, asshole" you insult him and he sounds pleased with your response.

"Ah! Are we sensitive today? It's a holiday! Let's celebrate!" 

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"our guest of honor has arrived, only his final trick is missing!" he continues to speak in that animated voice that irritates you.

When you talk to the Joker you get that feeling that he is speaking in another language, but he is not, you understand what you are saying but at the same time, you don't. You also realized that he knows too much to be just an Arkham patient. 

But everyone at the hospital can assure you that your neighbor is not an ordinary patient at all.

This time you managed to understand his words, Riddler still has an ace up his sleeve, how could the Joker find out about that?

"Did Batman interrogate you too?".

"Of course he did...I'm his favorite!" he replies in the same arrogant manner as always "but I don't forgive him for being so crude on our anniversary."

"So you saw it, huh? I don't think this is a coincidence" You suppose the Joker must have seen it too, of course, he may be reciprocally insupportable but he's not stupid.

The clown laughs, but you don't, you didn't say anything funny in your opinion.

"Poor little Riddler, he thinks he can be just like him."

You ponder what he says, returning to your bed as you sit up again, the sky begins to clear and you can see it through the tiny barred window.

What if this assassin wanted to imitate Batman in some way? 

"What a bizarre introjection you've made, Riddler" you whisper.

First, there was an explosion.

You felt the whole cell rumble, you woke up instantly and got up from your bed to run to the door even with your eyes swollen from sleep, naively you thought it was some kind of earthquake. You stuck your face to the glass of the door in search of a guard or nurse, whatever it is that will help you get out of this cell, you don't want to die here.

However, the section was still empty, there was no one in the guards' small surveillance cubicle, and you could only perceive the monitors on, showing the news. 

You heard a completely strident noise, there was no earthquake. You turned slowly to the window, the color was changing from gray to orange.

It can't be.

you rush to see what's going on, you grab a piece of your bed to climb on it and reach the high window of the cell, you level yourself by holding your hands on the rusty metal bars, and you catch a glimpse of what caused such a noise. 

You saw the light of an explosion, the combination of yellow and red colors coloring the sky, the smoke, the fire. The explosion happened far away from Arkham, but you can still see it in detail, then the noise became present, and you grimace at the impact on the walls, but it was not over yet.

Explosion after explosion went off all over the city, from bridges to seawalls, a scene so hard to believe if you weren't watching it right now.

The sight takes your breath away, you are so stunned that you almost fall to the floor witnessing such an act, this is what the Joker is referring to? the Riddler's final trick?

not even the scarecrow did so much damage to this city, you underestimated the man with the riddles.

You could not take your eyes off the explosions, there were too many and well-armed to generate so much destruction. The second thing was the water, the waves and drains getting out of control and flooding several streets.

You grip the metal bars tighter, not believing this is real, but it is. Not just bombs but a flood, was that what he had under his mask? Is Gotham drowning with innocent people? 

It makes sense now, his cooperation when caught, the guards' restless attitude, and Batman's uneasiness.

All.

Suddenly you focus on the bustle of what seems to be your cell neighbors, you didn't notice when they put the other patient in the cell next to yours. The noises came together to form a horrifying atmosphere. The laughter of the Joker, the excited laughter of your other neighbor, and the explosions that went on and on. Even with your breathing exercises, you could not relax in the face of this horrifying event.

Slowly you let go of the bars and stop looking in the window, slowly you understand one thing.

Someone beat Batman.

Thank you very much for reading! And sorry for the mistakes!*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧.

[ca-8]

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𝕐𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣𝕖!𝔹𝕦𝕟𝕫𝕠 𝔹𝕦𝕟𝕟𝕪 𝕩 𝕋𝕠𝕪 ℝ𝕒𝕓𝕓𝕚𝕥!ℝ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣 (ℙ𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝟚)

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(This is a yandere fanfic meant to portray behaviors seen in fiction and fiction only. This is not to represent people who have real mental/personality disorders and/or trauma that cause them to gain obsessive behaviors. Please do not romanticize any behavior like this seen in real life, and do not actively seek out a relationship with someone who is prone to hurt themselves and/or others. Keep fantasies in fiction. Thank you.) (Major Trigger Warning: Implied abuse, descriptive human gore, ingestion of human insides, body hacking) .

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The pile was gone.

Little Hoppy was licking up the bloodied stains on the floor. (Y/n) had forgotten she was there until they realized they had been staring down at her for the past half hour. Their vision became stable again, their body was no longer trembling, and their stomach growled with reluctant, sickly relief. So they sat there, filling their shriveling lungs with air that was curing out its hellish stench. Just like on the day when they all feasted on Devils.

Which made this impossible. (Y/n) and presumably every other toy in Playtime Co. gorged on hundreds of bodies for years, until they ran out. One minute they were bathing in a victorious bloodbath, the next their stomachs begged them to turn on each other. That's why it was always so empty. That's why (Y/n) and little Hoppy always hid. So…who…?

Gloved hands coated in red rested on their shoulders. And his godawful voice whispered in their ear, "Hello, darling."

Get up. Run. Grab Hoppy and run as far away as you can. But no matter how loud their inner voice screamed at them, they sat right in place. Little Hoppy had curled up in their lap and fallen asleep.

(Y/n) opened their mouth to scream, but Bunzo quickly hushed them as he leaned in to rest his head on their shoulder.

"Look how peaceful she looks. That must've been the first meal she had in a long time." They whimpered; he was so close that their cheeks touched. His breath reeked of Devil. "It must've been your first meal too, right, (Y/n)?"

His voice lowered when he said their name. There was so much pleasure laced within his tongue, they could feel him practically trembling as each letter spilled out. He gripped their chin with such force, as if he would break their jaw open if they even attempted to move from him.

No, he would. He'd have them writhe in agony and drag them back down to his little "playhouse". They looked down, their breath hitching. Bunzo's bloodied hand was caressing over the line of stitches connecting their beautiful (f/c) fur-covered thigh with a raggedy leg of another toy on their line.

It hurt. It stung so badly feeling the needle go inside and outside their leg It hurt. It stung so badly feeling the needle go inside and outside their leg with the thread harshly chafing against each hole. But what hurt more was tearing off a leg from another (Y/n)'s decaying corpse.

"You've been starving for so long, all because you thought you didn't need me. But now look at you, so filled with energy and beauty and life again. I was so considerate to look past the fact that you abandoned me, and brought you and your little pet back from the brink of death."

That God they praised was him. "Where did you get it?" their voice croaked from their voice box. It was the only thing they could push from their mouths that wouldn't make him harm them.

Bunzo's smile widened, and he brought his mouth closer to theirs. "A former employee was roaming around Playcare, all alone in the dark. I saw them, and I thought of you," he explained.

"How did you find me?"

"Oh, it wasn't hard. Who can go far with only one leg, anyway? And your only notable quality is how absolutely captivating you are, my dear. Having beauty that only I can admire."

Something was caught in the corner of their eye, and they glanced up. It was a rotting poster splattered in decomposing blood, but the most disgusting thing on it were the cartoon versions of (Y/n) and Bunzo embracing each other, surrounded by hearts and drowning in once better days.

Suddenly, he held their hand. "I'm so tired of worshipping your leg, it only makes me crave the rest of you. Come back with me, (Y/n). You and your pet. We can be a family together," Bunzo whispered. "From the second we were made, we were meant for each other. I can take care of you two. Other people will want to look for that former employee. You won't even have to lift a finger, I can kill them for you!" He wrapped his arms around them, forcing their hands to dig in their sides, and the maniac began to squeeze. "Do you know what you made me do when you left? I was so scared, so- so angry, I hurt so many little friends, so many of me!"

Little Hoppy's ears rose just a bit as soon as Bunzo rose his voice. She slowly rose from (Y/n)'s lap and looked up at their parents' trembling figure getting so painfully squeezed by the strange, bloodied bunny man. A low snarl erupted from that wide, toothless grin.

"It was so bizarre seeing myself bleed out by my hands - seeing so so much pour out from such tiny little bodies - but I had to do it. I had to! You are the one assigned to me, it's not my fault theirs are all dead, it doesn't mean they should have you-!" She leaped from their lap and flew straight to his face, sending him back on the ground. (Y/n) didn't look back, but their ears were doused in howls and curses as Bunzo tried to pry the little one off of him. She was little, but she wasn't prey. (Y/n) sprinted down the hallway and around the corner. They heard a gut-wrenching wail from little Hoppy, but their legs just kept going. It was pointless - when the Devils were wiped from this place, when the toys' only source of food were digested, all of their friends, their family, everyone only saw each other as either food or foe. The naive against the desperate, the weak against the strong.

And Bunzo was right, they were weak. They couldn't even take care of a little bunny. They could only run and hide and pray to a cruel God that he would disappear so they could fall asleep and never wake up.

The pitiful rabbit pushed open the door to a small, dark room and locked it behind them, then laid beneath a desk and held their mouth shut.

It had gotten quiet. Too quiet, and for too long.

Then, the silence broke far outside (Y/n)'s blanket of shadows.

"(Y/N)!" Bunzo screamed. His target stifled a sob. "I can't do this without you… I can't live without you! Don't you remember how beautiful we were together before The Hour of Joy? We knew how those Devils really saw those children, so we gave them the best life possible! We were one big happy family! We can be that again! We don't have to live out our final days in misery!"

'Go away. I don't care. I want nothing to do with you.' Yes, in the past, things were different. They were both powerless, but still made each orphan feel so loved and special. Just like how he made them once.

"I don't want you to die a hypocrite, (Y/n)," he continued. "You killed just as many as I did! I saw it all, the way you tore their jaws opened to silence their screams, how your breathtaking eyes blazed with fury as you ripped out their spines… it was heavenly."

(Y/n) clawed their face. They hated those Devils. They hated seeing their plans for those innocent children, they weren't fit to be called human! They had to protect them, they had to! They couldn't stand to see another one go! Those screams, they were like music - wonderful enchanting music! - even when living so beautifully, they've never experienced something so delightful before hearing such howls melt into choking groans as a Devil's blood flooded from their broken mouths. They didn't deserve to live! If those children knew what they were going to do to them, they would've done the same thing. THEY DID NOT DESERVE TO LIVE.

And then they saw the looks on their little faces. They looked at them as if they were the monster. They weren't, (Y/n) was just trying to protect them! But when they smiled and approached them and outstretched their arms for a hug like they always did, the children only screamed in utter terror, breaking that lovely song.

"So how can you give me that face when you've committed the same sins as I have?"

They couldn't kill again. When the children ran from them, they couldn't bring themselves to harm another. All of a sudden, that hatred had diminished, so they turned and hid, and the screams went on. They only stopped when Bunzo found and urged them to eat. They were starving, and they didn't mind it at the time because if they hurt those children, they only deserve to starve. But he dragged them out and fed them bitter Devil remains.

That's when they knew he had changed along with them. They saw what the children had seen and they did not like it one bit.

But now he fed them again. And they were hiding again. And another child got hurt because of them. If a cruel God was gazing down at this pathetic rabbit, they had hoped He could end its miserable life at at that moment.

But the cruel God kept living up to His title.

Bunzo's footsteps grew closer, and little Hoppy's mewls amplified along with them. (Y/n) let go of their stinging face. 'She's alive.'

"My dear, you're not just going to leave our poor baby to die, are you?" he called right outside the door. "I can't bear to tear this cute little thing to pieces. But I will if I have to. If you really are so selfish as to break apart our precious family, it only makes sense for you to die alone."

Footsteps walked past the room and little Hoppy's whines slowly began to fade. (Y/n) laid there, their stomach becoming more and more twisted and sick. Then, they rose, and exited the room.

"WHERE ARE YOU?" Bunzo bellowed. In one hand, he held little Hoppy's paw, making her dangle upside down. In the other, he held a half of her ear, letting small droplets of blood trail right behind him.

(Y/n) bit their quivering lip before softly saying, "Right here."

Bunzo whirled around. Little Hoppy's blood spouted across the lower wall beside him. "My beloved (Y/n), there you are!" he said cheerfully, his harsh and sadistic personality quickly fading. "You had me so worried for a second!"

Lights were flickering above them, but (Y/n) could still get a full view of him now. The green of his overalls were completely overshadowed by old blood every inch of its fabric, with little hints of fresh gore peppering a few areas. His yellow fur was completely dulled out and gave into the ugly mixture of whatever disgusting horrors he granted upon his other victims. Dirt and grime plagued his long ears, and surprisingly, (Y/n) spotted a bite at the tip of his left ear. But was most shocking was the fact that his right eye was missing.

They jumped when they realized Bunzo had moved much closer to them. "Hmm, you've must've noticed my own changes, is that right?"

"Yes, your…your eye."

"Oh! That old thing. That employee actually put up quite a bit of a fight."

"S-So…that wound…it's recent?" They glanced down at Little Hoppy for a second.

Bunzo face melted into a warm, enamored smile. "You're worried about me! That makes m e so…so happy!" He suddenly pulled them into an embrace, earning a fearful gasp from them. "You….me….this little one…" Pulling away only slightly, he brought up little Hoppy and made (Y/n) hold her along with him, dropping her half ear. It splattered only the ground, slowly uncurling like a wilting flower. "We'll be perfect together!"

They bit their tongue to keep themselves from crying. "If I stay with you…if w-we both stay…You won't hurt us?"

Bunzo's smile dropped. "Hurt you? Oh no no no no no no no! My dear, everything I've done, I did for you! To help you realize you need me as much as I need you. And it worked! Your eyes tell me you want to stay with me forever and ever!"

That crazed smile returned once more as he pulled them into another embrace. Little Hoppy whimpered and buried her face into (Y/n)'s stomach. "We'll have so much fun every day! I can show you the shrine I made for you! A-And you can give me more pieces of you so I can worship every single part of you every day!" He just kept going, on and on and on. "We'll never be apart again. We'll die together. And if you ever die before me, I'll tear open your body and make myself fit inside you, then close you up so I can suffocate against your wonderful skin. And you'll do the same for me! Doesn't that sound perfect?" (Y/n) tensed up. Their legs were aching to run away again, but they couldn't let him harm about thread on her body. Maybe this cruel God was giving her another chance at redemption. Protect the child, no matter what. Even if it means living every day in a hell with no rising sun. Even if it means becoming a slave to someone's sick fantasies. Even if it means wasting away your own life. It's time to repent for your sins. "Yes," (Y/n) said, "perfect." . . . Days have gone by. Or weeks. Or months. (Y/n) didn't care anymore. They and little Hoppy sat a table, kneeling over ragged carpet. Echoes of droplets sang close and off in the distance as they splattered against the cave floor. Sometimes they wondered what color they were. Behind them, a candle light flickered amongst the few that decorated Bunzo's masterpiece. (Y/n) always tried to avoid looking at it, as it just made them sick to their stomach, but sometimes they had no choice but to gaze upon its repulsive glory. It was a giant shrine of corpses spelling out their name, bodies once belonging to other Bunzos and (Y/n)s. Their faces were painted in such horrid agony, their mouths forever drawn out in an eternal silent scream. Each of them had their eyes gouged out as they were forced in a position to have their handless arms reach towards the shrine's centerpiece: (Y/n)'s precious leg. It was dirty and smelled absolutely appalling. Every inch of it was covered in smears and hand prints made from blood, like someone had gotten a little too personal in order to worship it. Even though asking was the last thing they wanted to do, Bunzo went ahead and whispered everything he did to it to them every night, in terribly excruciating detail.... (Y/n) released the breath they were holding and turned toward little Hoppy. Her previously damaged ear was sewn back together, and both ears were flopped over behind her head. Though she held her usual wide, toothless smile, the life in her eyes had greatly diminished. (Y/n) scooted closer and gently made her head lean on their side. "We'll be okay," they whispered. Turns out, Bunzo somewhat kept his promise; when they were good, he didn't lay a finger on Hoppy. If he was satisfied for the day, he treated them a little too well in fact, always going off into rants about how much of a good father and husband he was to his family. Always pulling (Y/n) into sudden, deep passionate kisses that had them gasping for air while he was off in a daze. It was so hard not to throw up once they were given a chance to breathe again. If he wasn't satisfied... They took in as much musty air as they could when footsteps began to approach. Bunzo emerged into the candlelight, holding yet another plate of throbbing Devil organs. The room instantly became poisoned with iron, and they held in a gag and sat up straight. "Thank you for waiting, honey!" Bunzo said enthusiastically, setting the plate down on the table and wiping the red streak off his face. "It's like this place is getting bigger every day...but we're so lucky. That employee has a lot more friends than I thought!" "Really?" (Y/n) stared at their meal. Bleeding rivers coursed through each crevice. Little Hoppy cautiously approached the pile. "We won't have to worry about food for a while!" Bunzo looked down at the bunny, who recoiled as soon as she saw him staring at her. He smiled. "Go ahead, dear, eat up. Your parents want you to grow up big and strong!"

She didn't move. (Y/n) grabbed a handful of intestine and held it up toward little Hoppy. She sniffed their hand and nibbled the contents slowly. "Aww, how adorable!" Bunzo cried happily. He scooted next to them and firmly grabbed their shoulder, pulling them toward him. "You're absolutely perfect... I can never get enough of you. Everything you do is so precious, so..." His breath clung to a gasp and broke out into quick, manic giggles. (Y/n) pulled back a bit before he grabbed their face and pressed his lips against theirs. His grip was so strong, too strong, they used their free hand to try to pry his hands off of them, or at least get him to let go.

Thankfully, he did, and he moved back just enough to let them have some air. With his half-lidded eyes swimming in morbid longing, Bunzo stared deeply into theirs, studying every smidgen of movement, every sliver of their dulling soul, every thought they could possibly be thinking and making sure it was only of him. They opened their mouth, and Bunzo cut them off. "Which reminds me," he started, "I'd like another piece."

His victim's heart stopped, and after a long, quiet moment that was only broken by dripping drops, (Y/n) picked up little Hoppy and sat her on the table next to their meal. She stepped towards them, almost putting one of her paws on their shoulder until they stood up and left the room with Bunzo following close behind. "I know you used to dream about escaping this place one day, my dear (Y/n)," he said. They entered another room with a bed and a table with various sharpened tool. The overhead light still made the fluids glisten. "When I saw you scurry from place to place, trying to ascend from our home. The more I watched you, the more confused I became." They laid down on the bed, holding out the arm fused with (f/c) and bright yellow fur from their side. Their and Bunzo's fingers trembled in sync. Bunzo grabbed a butcher's knife and ran one of their fingers against the blade. "You'd get killed the second you step outside of this place. You could never become adjusted or find someone to trust...or to love. Thinking about that made me so, so, so sad." He stepped to the side and laid his completely yellow hand firmly against the surface. "You had the nerve to leave me, then run off to get yourself killed? It hurt me. It hurt me so much. So much-" and he heaved in a gasp as he raised the knife, "-All I could think about was-" He hammered it down on his finger. A revolting crunch bounced off the walls. "How COULD you? How DARE you?" The knife flew back up and slammed back down on his finger, over and over again with each word and unstable gasp. "There wasn't ANYTHING I wouldn't do for you, and you still LEFT? After all we've BEEN THROUGH?" And with one final, painful CRUNCH, his finger laid severed in a pool of red. Bunzo gasped heavily, staring up at the wall whilst trying to regain control of his quivering arms. "...And..." he finally spoke in a haggard whisper. "And....and...and...and and and and....and you came back to me." Bunzo turned around, smiling ever so widely. Blood dripped off his teeth with pride. "And...and...and...and we started a new life together. C-CatNap was kind enough to- to...to lend us this part of the cave as our home, he...h-he, he only asked us to praise th-the...the the the Prototype, i-i-in exchange...." He pushed himself off the table and wobbled over to (Y/n). They only watched in silence, biting their lip to keep them from crying again. "I-...I don't..." He stumbled over, quickly catching himself before he could fall. "...I don't...g-give a single sh...shit about whatever he wanted, I don't care about the Prototype! I-I can't st-stand doing his...his little favors f-for his joke of a god..."

Supporting himself with his arms on the sides of their head, Bunzo hovered over them. Disgusting gore dripped onto their face, and they couldn't look away from that perfervid, boiling, doting glare. "Y-Y-You're my only God... I'll prove, I'll prove it to you...! W-We'll exchange pieces of each other and truly, truly become inseparable!" He grabbed their only good hand and brought one of their fingers up to his lips, dousing it in his saliva sighing so contently. (Y/n) was whimpering. Their heart was pounding and they couldn't keep themselves still. "Just do it already," they choked out. "Get it over with." "Aw, don't be so scared, my little bunny..." Bunzo reached over and kissed the top of their forehead. "I'll make this quick." He raised the butcher knife, and (Y/n) squeezed their eyes shut. His voice whispered within the darkness before the burning, unimaginable pain.

"After all, you've been so good for me. I love you so much." ・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・ Hey guys! Like what ya saw? Well you can commission your own private piece now!! Read more about that here! Thanks so much for reading, and have a great day!~ 💜💜💜 So this was so much fun to make, and again, thank you to @zinnia1506 for requesting!! (But again, seriously guys, don't go actively looking for relationship like these in real life. A lot of people are saying "ugh I wish I could find a crazy yandere gf/bf" and I'm just like, no. No you don't. For one, it romanticizes people with obsessive behavior stemming from trauma and/or mental/personality disorders, and two, it will NOT be the relationship you want. Trust me, I know. So every time I'm gonna make a yandere fanfic, I'm gonna put that lil PSA in the beginning. Keep yourselves safe.

Okay! Also, you guys can now request CatNap because:

I've been researching about him and people have been saying that he was 7 years old by the time he turned into CatNap, and since this game takes place ten years later (as the game implies that the toys can age), he has aged ten years mentally and emotionally, technically making him 17-18 years old (Update on that: @atiz57 just informed me that he may be in fact older, as he was turned into CatNap at age 7, stayed in that body for four years before the Hour of Joy making him 11, and 10 years later when the game took place, he would be 21. I wanna say thanks to them for giving me that info!)

I kin and am hyperfixated on CatNap and I wanna write about him pLEASE GIMME SOMETHING THAT INVOLVES HIM/nf

For the most part, I ask you guys to keep it mostly platonic (because I still speculate on his true age from time to time), and I'd love to hear from you all!~ 💜 Next up, we have a requested DogDay fanfic! I'm so excited to write it and show you guys!!

[woodsfae]

Babylon 5 S03E16 War Without End: Part One previous episode - table of contents

From the preview image that Tubi chose for the episode I see that Sinclair's back?? My old friend!! As well as our first glimpse at Minbar outside the Grey Council chambers, I believe! It's beautiful: very sculpted in a sort of sci-fi Rivendell way which fits the Minbari's space elf vibe. 

Entil'Zha is being presented with a sacred box, which has waited for over 900 years..in which there is a letter for Jeffrey David Sinclair! Dun dun dun. Prophecy is real, Babylon 5 is a high fantasy as much as it is sci-fi. 

Another prophecy, this one of the sci-fi variety: Babylon 5 gets a transmission of Ivanova calling for help, saying "they're killing us." 

This show gives me so many fanfic ideas and I haven't looked to see if anyone else has done them yet, because I'm avoiding spoilers. So I really don't go looking for info on B5 or interact with fandom works much. But this episode reminds me that I keep toying with the idea of an AU where Sinclair never leaves at the end of s01 and the whole plot plays out with him. I miss him, he got into my heart so fast and I had no inkling he was leaving the show till well after I was attached. 

It's nice to see Sinclair has had Minbari friends in his time running/recruiting/training the Rangers from Minbar. 

Partner just asked me what my predictions were for Sinclair and then when I went on a ramble just stared at me and told me to write it down. So here: my prediction of Sinclair's fate. In a separate post, because it's a bit too much of a tangent.

I've paused for long enough for only being six minutes into, so we're going to move on now, but if you wanna hear meta thoughts on what I think might happen with other characters end games, I could ramble about it.

Ivanova: this recording is fake. my analysis is based on logic: I didn't do it, ergo it is fake. Garibaldi, living for some sci-fi shenanigans: what if it's time travel.

They have Garibaldi positioned poorly before a dark path in the backdrop and it looks like he has one, huge pouf of hair sticking out one side of his head, lol.

Sinclair's back on Babylon 5! Zack Allen is in plainclothes, so perhaps all staff have the option? Or Zack wasn't invited to their special senior staff matching uniforms? 

Delenn being a drama queen. It's one of the qualities they hire for on the Grey Council. 

Lennier: "It must be done or the dream will die, and countless others will die."

o m in o u s

Eight days since the last Vorlon attack, per Marcus. 

Sinclair looks so good in Sci-Fi Rivendell clothes. Eeeek, I missed him, I love it. 

Oh it's Zak? Zap? Zathras? Yes! Zathras! Wow, I wasn't sre he'd be back, let alone that he'd be in shenanigans with DraalPlanet, OR that DraalPlanet would be doing something with time travel! 

And Sheridan! Is also wearing Minbari fashion! Some very snazzy robes over his uniform. 

Ivanova's message from the future is so grim. The captain is dead. "They" are coming in all over the place. External cams: Shadows. The Shadows have weapons lock. Explosions. Seems pretty straightforward and I bet it'll play out exactly like that with no twists. :P /hah

As Sheridan is doubtlessly about to find out, it's always going to be a normal evening when you are asked to swear you trust someone with your life before events can commence. 

Delenn has a powerpoint presentation about the Shadows. And a battle where the shadows were driven from their home, Zha'Dum. But the Minbari were losing at the time. Until Babylon 4 appeared! Delenn says without Babylon 4, they would have lost the war. 

Even while Babylon 4 was in construction, the Shadows attacked to destroy it. And the White Star was there! Delenn says they must go through the temporal rift that Draal is widening, protect B4, steal B4, and send B4 around in time. End Presentation! Everyone agrees with her flawless logic. And because she brought receipts in the form of video archival footage from DraalPlanet's surveillance system: Epsilon 3. 

That I didn't see coming, either. But like Garibaldi, I am so on board for the sci-fi hijinks. 

Oh, Delenn's plan goes farther! She and Sheridan will take B4 on the entire time travel trip and personally fight in the historical fight against the Shadows. Ten thousand years ago, right??? Damn, Sheridan and Delenn are going to stride through time and strike titanic, decisive blows in a war that felled entire species of sci-fi space gods!! That's so fucking epic. 

Ivanova is floating the idea that she was calling for help from an alternate timeline. But Garibaldi thinks it's the timeline they're planning now, where they take B4. 

I'm sure that SInclair's quippy references to Sheridan are super funny, but sadly I do not get the references. 

Zathras is here again. I...don't get Zathras. He's ehh funny. But extremely plot useful! Sinclair is meeting Zathras for the second time, but for Zathras it's the first time. But Zathras is well-informed, because he's very super honored to meet Sinclair and Sheridan, but also that's on the list of things Draal told him not to mention. 

Ahh, this Sinclair has already lived through the destruction of Babylon 5! He's already experiencing the world nonlinearly and is trying to do differently on this loop - damn! Or he's having visions from an alternate timeline but at some point you gotta agreee those are almost the sme thing, structurally, experientially, and thematically.

Time travel requires the use of devices that act as anchors. Zathras is handing them out and they're all being clipped visibly on a belt or sash, thus guaranteeing that someone will lose theirs. Sinclair? 

Aww, Sinclair sees Delenn and Sheridan holding hands and smiled. That makes me wistful for the Sinclair/Delenn endgame that exists in my personal, unwritten AU. 

Garibaldi is due an arc of making good, upstanding decisions and not doing police brutality so it hits extra hard when he blows up with Babylon 5. Or he makes it two more seasons, idk. I wouldn't mind if they lost a few characters and he was one of them.

Especially not if we could swap him for Talia back. I can't decide if I think she (or her personality that got overwritten) will be back or not. 

The White Star has been ugraded with Vorlon skin, so it deflects attacks better, which Sheridan affects to be unimpressed by.

Garibaldi guesses "Hello, old friend," as the password which Sinclair used to lock a goodbye/sorry video Sinclair left for him. Which makes me softer for Garibaldi. That's what I think of when I think of Sinclair, too! 

Oooo, Sheridan's time stabilizer got hit and now he's unstuck in time. Space is big. Hope he lands on something with an atmosphere. Delenn can pick him up later, I'm sure.

Sheridan always automatically turns to Delenn for backup, but Sinclair automatically turns to Ivanova, and I love that. 

Sheridan just time traveled to the future where Londo is the Emperor of Centaur! And it's "just in time to die."

Are they currently losing a war in the future? Perhaps Centaur is now a holdout in the war for existence against the Shadows in an alternate future and Sheridan will be meant to save the future as well as the past? 

So funny how taken aback Delenn is that Sinclair speaks Minbari now. He lived there! Marcus, who was being trained as a Ranger there learned Minbari as what he implied was a necessity. But Delenn is so surprised. Their heart to heart is so sweet. *shipping intensifies*

Back to the future! Sheridan and Londo seems like he's blaming other people for his own support of the Shadows' agenda coming back to bite Londo and Centaur in the ass. "Ohhh if only you'd joined me in collaborating I wouldn't have had to face any consequences!" He'll get everything he ever thought he wanted and learned that being Emperor lost him everything he'd ever cared loved.

That's a pretty good hook and a cliffhanger. And a ton of interesting information was revealed! It's too late for Part Two tonight but I pinky-promise I will watch it tomorrow. I wrote up some predictions after I did a Sinclair one and an other-characters one before I watched...

War Without End: Part Two

[misscrawfords]

I've been listening to Pride and Prejudice again this week in the car - I've got as far as Mrs. Gardiner's letter - and oh, my heart! So many thoughts and feelings. (Pls ask me about P&P, please.) Anyway, one thing I've been reflecting on is how the plot is almost too neat. It's fairytale-like in that there's really no way it could have happened IRL - what are the odds that Elizabeth's best friend marries Darcy's aunt's clergyman and they all happen to be in Kent together? What are the odds that Elizabeth goes to Derbyshire and visits his estate at exactly the time he arrives back? etc. etc. In real life, none of this could have happened. P&P is as tightly plotted and sparse in its extraneous details in the same way that Emma is and Emma is possibly the tightest plotted novel ever written.

But it got me thinking about P&P "variations" as the published fanfic is called and how unlikely so much of it is. People really want to make Austen's characters do things they absolutely never would. There is zero chance that Elizabeth would accept Mr. Collins. There is less than zero chance that Mr. Darcy would compromise her and force her to marry him. (Mr Darcy? The guy who thinks staring uncomfortably at a woman across the room is flirting? As if!) These so-called variations might end up with interesting plots but are fundamentally flawed because the characters who would act in these ways are absolutely not the characters Austen wrote.

So I was wondering where you could successfully have a variation. It would have to be a scenario in which circumstances change but not characters. So here are a few I think could work (and almost certainly have been written):

Bingley meets Jane in London. Despite Darcy and Caroline's best efforts, it's not inconceivable that they might bump into each other. London's big but not that big. It's as plausible as the meeting at Pemberley. I can't imagine Bingley could be persuaded against Jane when she's actually in front of him, looking sad and ill because she missed him so much. But what of his relationship with Darcy? Surely strained at this point. And what of Darcy's relationship with Elizabeth now that they'd be thrown together much more much earlier on and in a way that ensures continuous acquaintance. What happens with Lydia? Unlikely she'd ever go to Brighton. Jane's marriage changes the Bennets' circumstances entirely. Everything is changed here but it's an intriguing AU and not implausible.

Elizabeth and the Gardiners go to the Lakes. I mean... it's only authorial dabbling that means they don't in the first place. The Pemberley sequence never happens. Big repercussions for the development of Darcy's character, Elizabeth's feelings and Lydia's reputation. How do you get them all back together? Uncertain. Another more minor but potentially interesting change in this area would be the Gardiners always intending to go to Derbyshire. The journey is brought up at Rosings. Darcy pre-proposal invites Elizabeth and her relations to Pemberley. It gives him an opportunity to be nicer earlier but how does Elizabeth receive it? What happens at the proposal consequently? What happens to the offered invitation post-refusal? Becomes even more awkward in Derbyshire.

Georgiana accompanies Darcy and the Bingleys to Netherfield. Not the AU I'd be most interested in because I think Wickham would nope out of there the second he knows Georgiana is in town because there's no way Darcy wouldn't act if his sister's wellbeing was on the line, so that whole plot would be knocked on the head. However, the possibility of a friendship being struck up between Elizabeth and Georgiana at Netherfield while Jane is ill is a cute one. (Though I think without an interest in Darcy himself, Elizabeth would take time to warm up to Georgiana - lbr the Bennet who would instantly become her big sister is Jane.)

Lydia never lets slip about Darcy being at her wedding. Not a very interesting AU because Elizabeth would find out somehow and Bingley and Darcy would return to Netherfield anyway and she's in love with him even without knowing about Lydia so....

Can you think of any more AU possibilities like this that don't involve the characters acting OOC to set up the premise?

[jessicalprice]

the adventures of kid jesus, holy terror

(reposted from Twitter)

So I tend to think that the reason the four gospels that made it into the Christian Bible did so was because they were the ones that conflicted least with most of the major schools of early Christianity. Like, they don't preclude gnosticism, they don't really put Jesus in a particular political movement, etc. They're open to mystical interpretation, but they're among the least mystical of the candidates, etc.

They also involve relatively little Asshole Jesus.

But allow me to introduce you to the Infancy Gospel of Thomas.

No, not the Gospel of Thomas, the most famous of the noncanonical gospels.

The Infancy Gospel of Thomas.

The Infancy Gospel of Thomas was written before 185 CE, when Irenaeus was ranting about it, and after 80 CE, since it borrows from Luke and that's probably when Luke was written point being: as these things go, it's pretty old--this isn't medieval fanfic or whatevs. It was also very, very popular.

So.

The first thing baby Jesus does is make some clay sparrows on Shabbat which freaks everyone out in the way that only Jews written by Christians freak out, because he's 5 years old and 5-year-olds playing with mud on Shabbat is not, like, a big deal.

So anyway, Kid Jesus is there with another kid, who takes a stick and stirs a mud pool Kid Jesus made.

so Kid Jesus turns him into a mummy

The now-mummy kid's parents are understandably upset that their toddler got mummified for stirring some water with a stick and they go to complain to Joseph that his little holy terror of a son is desiccating people.

meanwhile, Kid Jesus is running around town

Another kid is running around town and bumps Kid Jesus's shoulder.

so Kid Jesus kills him

Joseph now has TWO sets of angry parents being like "my dude, your son is killing little kids which is profoundly Not Cool" so he goes to have a talk with Kid Jesus about how we don't just straight-up murder toddlers who bump into us.

Joseph sits Kid Jesus down and is like "look, son, we're being persecuted (translation: asked to stop) now because you're murdering children so maybe stop it?" and Kid Jesus says "aw, Dad, I know you don't mean it" and...

...Kid Jesus strikes the parents complaining that he's murdered their kids blind

Joseph twists his ear and Kid Jesus tells him to quit it and leave him alone to do his murdering in peace.

There's this teacher named Zacchaeus who for some reason is IMPRESSED by all this and is like, "your kid is so wise, my dude, let me teach him" and apparently he was okay at teaching the alphabet:

And he told him all the letters from Alpha even to Omega clearly.

Kid Jesus, on the other hand, is the worst student ever and is all:

thou hypocrite, first, if thou knowest it, teach the Alpha, and then will we believe thee concerning the Beta.

It's unclear whether he actually understands the definition of the term "hypocrite."

Zacchaeus, who's clearly a hardcore masochist, is all like:

Woe is me, wretch that I am, I am confounded: I have brought shame to myself by drawing to me this young child

And he's like "this 5-year-old who yelled at me about the order of the letters is CLEARLY an angel or a god."

No, I mean literally:

he is somewhat great, whether god or angel or what I should call him, I know not.

And Kid Jesus is like yup, I'm here to make you all miserable.

No, I mean literally:

I am come from above that I may curse them, and call them to the things that are above, even as he commanded which hath sent me for your sakes.

But Kid Jesus goes ahead and heals everyone he cursed, and after that, everyone's afraid to contradict him, because they are *literally terrified he will maim them.*

No, I mean literally:

And no man after that durst provoke him, lest he should curse him, and he should be maimed.

Then Kid Jesus and some other kids (I'm hesitant to characterize them as his friends) are playing in the upper story of a house and a kid falls out a window and dies so the dead kid's parents are like, "clearly this kid that's already straight-up murdered 2 other kids did it."

So Kid Jesus raises the other kid from the dead not because, you know, he's a little kid who fell out a window and died and that's tragic, or because his parents are grieving or whatever.

no, he raises him from the dead so the dead kid can back him up that he didn't murder him

Then Kid Jesus turns six and for a little while it seems like he's going to be less of a serial killer. He carries some water to his mom after the pitcher breaks, and uses his superpowers to help his dad with carpentry.

But then his dad decides that he's six so it's really time he learned his ABCs and now that he's a little older maybe he won't be so much of an asshole to his teachers so he gets a new teacher, and this one isn't as submissive as the last one.

Kid Jesus is an asshole to this teacher too, but this one smacks him upside the head for mouthing off.

so Kid Jesus kills him (or maybe just puts him in a coma)

Joseph is like maybe we just homeschool him.

But there's a teacher who's like PUT ME IN, COACH. And Joseph is like look my dude my murder-child has a 100% teacher-killing rate, are you sure? And the teacher's like I CAN DO IT.

Oh wait, Teacher #1 lived because he groveled, I forgot. Anyway, Teacher #3 also grovels, which pleases Kid Jesus so much that he heals/resurrects Teacher #2.

So then Kid Jesus's brother James gets bitten by a snake and Jesus heals him which is nice I guess but James best thank him thoroughly or he might get murdered like every other kid in the village.

And then a baby gets sick and dies and Kid Jesus resurrects him and the villagers are like: "Of a truth this young child is either a god or an angel of God; for every word of his is a perfect work."

because they have the world's shortest memories

So a guy dies and Kid Jesus resurrects him and they're all:

This young child is from heaven: for he hath saved many souls from death, and hath power to save them all his life long.

which IGNORES THAT MOST OF THE PEOPLE HE RESURRECTED WERE DEAD IN THE FIRST PLACE BECAUSE HE KILLED THEM

And then there's a paragraph about him teaching in the Temple when he was 12 that's very similar to the one in Luke and that's a wrap.

Behold: the Infancy Gospel of Thomas

and this shit was apparently VERY POPULAR

So yeah, one of the more popular early Christian bestsellers was, just to sum up: Jesus murders a bunch of people, maims anyone who objects, brings them back to life, and everyone who witnesses it thinks that everything he does is perfect after he terrifies them into submission.

[babyunwin]

tags.

squad > we’re the kings‚ life is just our party palace. / squad. michelle > we both have the same eyes‚ because we are both exhausted. / michelle. dean > brought the flames and put me through hell. / dean. renee > let me be the rose to tint your glass. / renee. dae > the very first words of a lifelong love letter. / dae. gray > wild and fluorescent‚ come home to my heart. / gray. charlie ( whiskers ) > hate that i love you. / charlie. charlie ( vivi ) > you’re my brother‚ too. / charlie. ooc >  everything’s gonna be super duper. 👍 / ooc. ooc asks >  ask me about my self insert big time rush fanfic. / ooc. crack tag > six hours and 229 $ of crack later. / crack. promo >  simply amazing. / p. daisy > troubled thoughts and the self esteem to match‚ what a catch. / daisy. jemma > dae & ker > eggsy >

[thran-duils]

Total Eclipse (P.5)

Title: Total Eclipse (Part Five) Summary: Fem!Reader x Sherlock Holmes (RDJ). Sherlock had an impression on the reader from a formative age but he was always so busy running with cases. Their moments of passions were coveted between the two but they were few and far between. He left with Watson on a case and in that time, her parents found her a suitable man to give her to. Wealthy and accomplished. Sherlock and her have not been able to let go of each other though. Words: 2,958 Warnings (for the whole fic): Angst, infidelity, smut, swearing, substance abuse, non liner storyline, character death, 18+ as always

Part Four || Masterpost (mobile) || Fanfic masterpost

The address Sherlock had left was for a hotel and you approached it with hesitance, not knowing what room to go to. He had not left that and probably for good reason since he had not booked the room yet when he had left you the note. Plus if the note fell into someone else’s hands somehow if he had booked the room… But you were walking in blind no matter the circumstance.

Approaching the front desk, you meant to ask for a room booked under Holmes but as you were walking, you were intercepted, an arm looping through yours.

“Sweetling, wherever are you going?” he said to you calmly, his fingers caressing yours. You fell into the act easily, feigning normal, and leaning into his embrace.

Sherlock led you away from the front desk, pulling a room key out of his jacket pocket and waving it in front of you.

“You should not go waving that about so freely,” you told him out of the corner of your mouth, looking around the lobby. “There may be eyes.”

“There are none that are of any concern to you,” Sherlock reassured you as you came to the elevator.

“Except yours?”

He smiled briefly, amused. “Except mine,” he agreed.

Sherlock stayed close enough to keep you at his side but he again, was cordial until the pair of you were let off on your floor and he escorted you to the hotel room. You were nervous; this was bold. The two of you entering a hotel room together on a weekend that your husband was out of town. And the fact you had already been caught with him before – albeit years ago – was not a good thing to remember at that moment.

When the door closed, you turned, asking him immediately, “How did you know he was going to be gone? Arthur.”

“I saw it in a letter,” Sherlock responded curtly as he walked past you. He tore his jacket off and tossed it on the back of one of the armchairs.

Face pinched, you asked, “You went through his things?”

“I merely peeked. It’s not a crime,” Sherlock sniffed, sitting down on the couch, looking at you expectantly to join him.

You ignored his expression, putting a hand on your hip, staring down at him. “On top of going through his things, you stole my perfume.”

Sherlock was quiet and you rose your brows, waiting for him to defend himself. He looked uncomfortable, avoiding eye contact, busying himself with fluffing the pillow on the couch next to him. He finally asked, stammering a little, “Do… do you want it back?”

Exhaling deeply at his nervous behavior – something only you seemed to bring out in him, you dropped your hand.

“No, I already got another one,” you admitted. “I did not expect to get it back.”

“How fortuitous I stole from the rich.”

“Should I expect to find any other of my belongings missing then?”

“I was quite fond of your lotion collection, but I knew it would not serve me.”

“But my perfume would?”

“I do not intend to wear your perfume.”

“I surely hope not.”

Sherlock and you stared between yourselves, and you only smirked briefly before looking away from him. He was such an ass sometimes. And you loved him so deeply. So, so painfully deeply.

“Were you followed?” he questioned, breaking the silence.

“By you,” you told him as a matter of fact.

Sherlock gave a little laugh. “You saw me then. Good.”

“Were you even trying?”

“Of course I was. I don’t doubt your intelligence. I was just making sure you got here safely. It is quite late. However did you manage to come by yourself?”

“I snuck out.” Sherlock looked impressed by that. “They will not check the bed. I specifically request to be left alone at night and I put pillows under the covers. It’s a childish tactic but it’s not something they would expect for me. Getting back in will be more difficult but I will be able to manage.” You switched the convo back, “I also expected you to follow me, so I was looking for you.”

“Naturally.”

“And apparently I was right. Was I followed though? By any sinister looking characters?”

“No. You were not. By anyone else, I mean.”

You came to the couch then, sinking into the cushions beside him. He was enamored, watching your lips before meeting your eyes again. You touched his jawline and asked, “How did you like my house?”

“It was far too large,” he told you, sounding impassive. “Anyone could be hiding inside, and you would not know.” He was always worried about your safety. “The artwork is gaudy – Arthur is quite proud of it though.”

Arthur’s name fell off his tongue like acid.

“And you acted so interested.” He shot you a look and you smiled, squeezing his chin. “The act was immaculate if you need that praise.”

“Where even is your touch on the place?” he asked sincerely.

Your face fell then, and he noticed. He opened his mouth to say something but then closed it again, thinking better of it. You shrugged in response though. “I was allowed to choose some of the furniture when I moved in because he thought new pieces would suit the place well… but the choices were very limited. So, it was me choosing from his array of choices. And I chose a lot of my wardrobe. But… not much past that.”

Sherlock sighed heavily and grasped your hand. He pulled your glove off, finger by finger and placed it on the back of the couch behind the pair of you. Your eyes were fixated on him, and he brought your bare hand up to his lips, planting a deep kiss. His eyes were something to drown in when he opened them again and you relaxed, feeling the anxiousness melt away beneath his affectionate look.

Scooting closer, he brought you in and his lips met yours, moving slowly. He reached for your other glove, lips still locked in passion, pulling it off as well. Bare hands grasped the back of his neck to pull him closer and you fell into the kiss completely.

<><><>

You woke up groggily. Where were you and what time was it? Blinking, you lifted your head and as your vision cleared, you realized it was Sherlock you were sleeping next to. Your lips curled up into a sleepy smile; this was a dream. Paradise. Your leg was swung over Sherlock, your head had been laid on his chest. You began to lower your head back down, wishing to continue sleeping.

That was until you remembered you had come to the hotel.

Sitting up straight in a quick motion, you startled Sherlock awake with the movement.

“The sherry! Christ!” you blurted.

The two of you had drank so much sherry. You had had sex and then drank and then had had round two. You must have dozed off after the second time.

“Yes, sweetling, we had a lot of sherry,” Sherlock confirmed.

Scrambling, you sat up on the edge of the bed, your bare back to him. You slid off, mocking him, “’Yes, sweetling’? Honestly? That’s what you have to say?”

“Is there something else I should be saying?”

You shot him a vexed glare as you went to get your socks. You should have been home by now. It was still dark out thankfully. But, you should have figured out how to get home by now and slipped back into your chambers or at least been back in your damn house. Your head was still swimming a little bit from the few glasses.

Sherlock continued, “If there’s something that miraculously just by me saying it, makes you feel better, pray tell me. I would do most things to set you at ease, love.”

“Help me get my dress on!” you demanded.

Propping himself up on his elbow, he asked you, “So soon?”

“Sherlock!”

“Certainly,” he responded, throwing his legs over the side of the bed and getting up. Nude, he walked over. “Are you sure you won’t stay longer, though? It is only three o’clock in the morning.”

Of course it was 3:00am. The witching hour. You pulled at your hooks on your corset hastily.

“How are you so calm about this?”

His hands came to rest on your shoulders, trying to be reassuring. “Arthur is out of town. You went to stay at a hotel because someone on your staff had a nasty cold and you wanted the house cleaned.”

“Yes and the fact my staff is not aware of this absurd story at all?”

“This is why you shouldn’t have a staff.”

You let out a growl of annoyance, pulling away from him and diving for your petticoat. Pulling it over your head and pushing it down to your waist, you struggled to stay calm under the climbing anxiety.

“Dear, let me,” Sherlock tried, grasping your wrists and stilling your movement. You breathed deeply as he held you, not moving. He slowly let go of your wrists and picked up the strings of your petticoat. “I will help you and then I’ll get myself dressed and I will escort you home. Only to a few paces from your home and then I will watch to make sure you get home. Is that satisfactory?”

Taking another deep breath, you calmed yourself more. You nodded, “Yes. That’s perfectly fine.”

“Good,” Sherlock responded as he tied your petticoat. “We must keep our heads, mustn’t we? If we are to continue this?”

“Yes,” you breathed.

Sherlock laid a kiss on your cheek and said, “Let me help you with your skirts.”

Unable to help yourself, you quipped, trying to calm the mood, “You’ve already done that.”

Chortling, he tipped your chin back towards his and laid a slow kiss.

<><><>

Sherlock and you managed to keep up your dance, meeting at times. And he showed up at dinner parties, the two of you acting as mere acquaintances. His eyes followed you though at these dances and dinner parties; he was inconspicuous about it to others, but you always felt the heat of his stare. And you played just as coy, dutiful wife to this rich man you had landed. Arthur was simply in love with your son, George, him reaching a year and a half now. George was strong and in good form according to the doctor. Arthur never wasted an opportunity to show him off.

And he was more than pleased you were with child again. It had only just been determined. You had missed your last monthly cycle and coming up on the second…

You on the other hand were less than pleased. You had made sure to be as regular with Arthur as you could be, especially being careful to do it at the times you had met Sherlock. But… the two men were different in appearance. Discrepancies between him and the new child could certainly be called to you, but it still put you on edge.

Arthur had taken the pair of you out for dinner in celebration the same day it was declared by the doctor, gushing about you all evening. It was hard to not have adoration for him. The two of you got along well but the deep intimacy was missing. That was so important to you and yet you still cared for him.

“I am glad I found you,” Arthur told you, holding his dessert spoon up to your lips. You gave a light, polite laugh at the gesture and he mockingly begged, “Love, please. I am sacrificing this delicious syllabub on you.”

Opening your mouth, he placed it in and smiled warmly.

“We truly are blessed,” he told you. And you felt the sincerity behind the statement.

<><><>

The next night, the two of you were returning back to your estate from his brother’s. Again, you had been praised all night for the great news and you had grimaced through it, trying to be positive about the whole ordeal. You regretted nothing with Sherlock but just the idea of being found out was eating away at you.

Cradling George, you poked at his nose. He had slept almost the whole time there, which did not bode well for the nanny, but you would do your best to stay up as long as you could to keep him entertained in apology.

You were close to coming back into the city limits at this point. You could see the lights from the city in the distance from the windows of the carriage. You were eager to get back inside and swaddle George.

A distant gunshot rang through the air suddenly and you jumped, recognizing the sound immediately. George immediately started crying and you cradled him close, your heart pumping hard. You looked out the window of the carriage and in that moment, realized the carriage was starting to veer with the horses.

“What fresh hell?” Arthur demanded, sitting up to peer out the window clearly. He threw the door open and you called out to him to close it, begging him to actually.

The carriage was going off the path and you yelped as it hit a bump, sending the carriage off kilter for a moment in the tall grass. Arthur heeded what you said and closed the door now.

Slowly, the horses were coming to a stop and the two of you stared at each other, terror mirrored between the two of your gazes. Why were you out here in the middle of a field and why had your driver let the horses take you off the path?

“HENRY!” Arthur bellowed. You could see a cold sweat forming on his brow. When he received no answer, his eyes were back on you and he was quick to act. “Y/N, get down. On the bottom of the carriage. Bring George with you.”

“What?”

“Do as I say!” Arthur barked.

He had never shouted at you and it startled you into action. You moved yourself onto the floor, keeping yourself clear of the windows. George was still whimpering and you cooed him, trying to bounce him to keep him calm.

It was eerily silent outside, the moon shining in through the windows.

Another gunshot rang out.

Arthur grunted as he slumped against the seat of the carriage.

You gasped, hands coming to your mouth seeing the blood. Tears stung, your fear starting to overwhelm you completely now. What was going on? Were you about to be robbed? You had no money on you! And how would that fare for you and George?

Arthur’s eyes were on the two of you and his fingers twitched in one of his hands as if he was trying to reach towards you. You bit your cheeks to stifle a cry, only holding George tighter, holding him against your chest.

People were approaching, you could hear them. This was it. Gunshots started going off again and you let out a cry despite how hard you been trying to be quiet and not give yourself away.

The carriage was shaking as they climbed aboard and you stifled a sob, fearing the worst. Your horseman was shoved off the carriage, his body falling past the window. You let out a loud whimper again, you burying your head into George to shield his little face.

The carriage began to move again, quickly this time. You were being kidnapped. They wanted Arthur’s money and you both were being taken for ransom. That was the only thing that made sense.

The sounds of the gunshots fell behind you. And then they stopped completely.

Pulling your head up, you looked out the carriage windows from your position on the floor. You wiped at your tears, clearing your vision. You were inside the city now, but you were heading towards the water front, that much you could discern. You knew your bearings about the city well enough because of your adventures with Sherlock. Were they going to put you on a ship? And take you to where?

Arthur was breathing shallowly now, his eyes closed. You did not want him to die.

The carriage came to a stop. You tried to slow your breathing and focus. You needed to be able to get an upper hand if you were able to. The carriage was shaking again as the people disembarked from the front and your eyes were trained on the door as it was thrown open.

It was Sherlock.

And John.

“What… what the HELL are you doing?” you shrieked when your shock wore off at seeing them.

John was already moving past you into the carriage, ignoring your outburst. He was going for Arthur, tearing his shirt off. Arthur was pale, he had lost so much blood. John was assessing the wound.

Sherlock pulled you from the carriage, “Come with me. Come.”

“What is happening?” you exclaimed, trying to not sink into the shock, trying to look back at where Arthur was.

Sherlock forced you to look at him and he cupped your chin.

“The men Watson and I have been trying to track down that have been targeting diamonds were after Arthur. I only realized it was him tonight that the clues were heading towards for their most recent hit and I tried to get there as soon as I could. I’m sorry I was not quick enough to prevent this,” Sherlock informed you firmly, holding your hands tight. “Darling, I promised I would keep you safe and I intend to keep that promise. And by keeping you safe means we need to take leave of the city until we are able to bring them down.”

~~~

Fic tags: @undecidedsworld @mcnegan

[real-jaune-isms]

This meme brought to you by how ungodly emotional music makes me, and by the letter

P

For please someone write a fanfic where Penny survived and gets a happy life as a real girl with her friends??

[arlothia]

Okay, fanfic ask.

C, I, K, M, N, P, U and Z

Alrighty, these letters are brought to you by THIS fanfic ask game, so let's get to answering!

C - What member do you identify with most?

By 'member' I'm assuming this means 'team member', so I would definitely be the researcher/the one who knows/can find out everything :P

I - Do you have a guilty pleasure in fic (reading or writing)?

'Guilty pleasure' implies I feel guilt about it ;) hehehe! But I just love me my whump! All the whump!!

K - What’s the angstiest idea you’ve ever come up with?

Ooooooo! I think my angstiest idea is probably something I haven't written yet, but I have some stuff in my Middle-earth Saga (see more below) that I was like "I DON'T WANT TO DO THIS BUT I HAVE TO BECAUSE IT HAS TO HAPPEN!!!!" 😭😭 But as I don't want to give them away, I shall remain mum on the specifics ;)

M - Got any premises on the back burner that you’d care to share?

Well, I already mentioned my Indentured Servant fic in another ask, so for this one, I'm going to say an ages-long, multigenerational Middle-earth fic that surrounds some of the events of Tolkien's works while also writing before, between, and after them. I have this whole little world in my head that fits in with his work (as much as possible) that I've been thinking about for....oh wow....20 years????? There's so much there and SO many characters, and I'm VERY heavily invested in it. Now all I gotta do is write it...heh!

N - Is there a fic you wish someone else would write (or finish) for you?

THAT MIDDLE-EARTH SAGA!!! It's completely alive in my head, I know the characters, I know the general plots as well as a bunch of specific things, so if someone can just read my brain and write it down exactly how I want it, that'd be great, thanks!

P - Are you what George R. R. Martin would call an “architect” or a “gardener”? (How much do you plan in advance, versus letting the story unfold as you go?)

ARCHITECT!!!

ARCHITECT!!!

ARCHITECT!!!

ARCHITECT!!!

ARCHITECT!!!

ARCHITECT!!!

Does that answer the question? :P But seriously, this is why I'm, like, the slowest writer out there ;)

U - Share three of your favorite fic writers and why you like them so much.

Teej - Oh my goodness when she writes a fic, SHE WRITES A FIC!!! Freaking novellas, y'all!! You don't get a simple one-off, you get a full blown story and it's AWESOME!!

Lea - AAAAAANGST!!!!!! Oh man do you ever feel things when you read her stuff! Oof!!! My heart will never be the same!

Aggie - Freaking characterization!! She NAILS IT!!!!! The characters come to life and I can see her fics as movies in my head as I read!

I will forever love you three and I'm so happy to call you friends!! *hugshugshugs*

Z - Major character death–do you ever write/read it? Is there a character whose death you can’t tolerate?

I haven't written any yet, but they are planned. They're part of those angsty ideas of mine up above ;) It's not my cup of tea for reading unless it's part of the canon and if there's an actual POINT to their death and not just stupid angst fodder because the author has no better idea :P Like I said, I love my whump, but if the whumpee dies then that negates much of the whump for me.

As for one character death I can't tolerate.... Are you ready Teej and Lea? You know what's coming:

Forever bitter, forever sobbing 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

[mego42]

I 100% agree about wanting more fanfic lists! I honestly think it's the best way to get a variety. Everybody has personal preferences, if someone, who mostly reads long, fluffy au Brio fic, is making recs, they're not likely to mention short, angsty, canon Brio (which is understandable and fair!) so ideally someone else, who does like those, would also do recs. I'm pretty sure I've read or at least tried the vast majority of Brio fics, but the recs often make me re-read the fic and author.

YAAASSSS!!! I mean like, okay, I v much get why people have issues with rec lists, and I def do not by any stretch endorse the idea that recs/rec lists should be considered anything other than one person sharing a think they liked, but to me a lot of the issues (the same fics/authors getting recced, feeling like awesome fics/authors are going unrecognized) can be solved by more reccing, not less. everyone’s got different taste and different stuff they look/read for and I am extremely pro sharing that.

Idk, I think about it like this: in a previous internet life I was a YA book blogger and I lived and died by recs from other bloggers whose taste and preferences I knew. I mean, you know, I’d check out a book bc the premise sounded interesting but literally the first thing I would do was go to Goodreads and look for a handful of people who tended to like the same books I did and see what they were saying about it bc that was the best way to get a good idea of if I wanted to give it a shot. Or, on the flip side, there were some people whose reviews I followed bc I knew we v much did not read for the same things so if they hated a book for X, Y and Z reasons, I was probs going to like it (one thing about book blogging is if you want to keep current, you do not have a lot of time to mess around, snap judgements are key but that’s a whole other thing and idk if it’s even relevant anymore bc that landscape has changed so much). 

ANYWAY, the point is, I got in the habit and now I do the same thing with fic bc, tbh, I don’t have a ton of time to read, esp not when I’m actively writing which, with the exception of the last week or two, I’ve been doing p non-stop since I got here. All of which to say is, I am desperately in favor of fic recs for purely selfish reasons, I need them! Give them to me!!! Please!!!!!

That said, I uh, am v bad at returning the favor and I recognize that (I think I’ve made what? two rec lists for this fandom?) so I will try to do better to live by my own, idek what this is, moving on and here are 10 recs not really thematically linked by anything other than I’ve read them and loved them and don’t think I’ve put any of them on one of my rec lists yet (and if I have, my blog is a trainwreck I cannot be expected to remember what’s on it LET ME LIVE):

The Goodest Boy by EnsignDisaster

There’s a key turning in the lock and Buddy rushes over to greet his Master excited for her to meet his new friends. The door opens and he dances around Master’s feet rejoicing on the fact that she’s made it home. It's been literally forever.

“Hey Buddy what’s wrong? Need to go potty? Need to pee-pee?”

“Nah he’s good we took him out.”

Master does something very unMasterlike, she drops all the food she’d brought in on the ground and screams. It’s a non traditional avant garde type of hello…Buddy loves it. Mostly because while Master taps furiously on her small light box and sits tense in the corner opposite his new friend Buddy can lick up the egg smashed on the hardwood floor.

Buddy! The! Dog! POV! no further explanation necessary. Technically WIP, but it covers the whole pilot in a way that could be read as standalone (THOUGH THAT WOULD V MUCH GIVE ME A SAD though, when did the show forget the Bolands had a dog? so maybe that’s a tragic casualty of canon, idk)

May The Moon’s Silvery Beams by @pynkhues

Emma hums in agreement, and Rio turns her around to sit her on the counter, grabbing one of the older looking boxes of muesli while she kicks her legs out, heels bumping back against the counter, watching him. He gropes around the inside of the box, finally just opting to pull the plastic cereal bag out and peering inside. He can’t quite keep the grin off his face when he sees the wad of cash lining the bottom. This woman kills him, she really does.

Then there’s a little face peering up beside him, trying to peek into the box.

“What is it?” she asks, and he tilts the box sideways so she can see inside.

The upside to not getting here until s3 is that old fic is new to me! Huzzah!! Idk how many of y’all have already read this on but if you haven’t I highkey recommend. Extremely cute take on what if Emma woke up when Rio and came by to collect his/Beth’s/whoever's money during the shutdown. Cannot believe I’m reccing kidfic. Witchcraft!!!!!!

Maybe You’re My Fantasy by ohmisterjapan

He fucking loves the involuntary. It speaks to how he likes to unlock chaos and walk away. He's been called a control freak before and it felt like such a misunderstanding of him - he's all about self control but he doesn't want to control others. It's more that he enjoys revealing to them how little they can control themselves. It's more that he likes to stand still in the eye of someone else's storm and pick coldly through the wreckage.

Another oldie but a goodie. This fic is more like an extended character study (first chapter Rio POV, second chapter Beth) and I LIVE FOR THIS KIND OF SHIT. I really really really love the take on both characters, it really digs in and pulls out some nuances that made me sit and think about my own read of them and I love it.

A Shock Of Blue by mintletters16

“You don’t look very well. Would you… like me to get you a glass of water or something?”

Her voice is low but smooth, laced with a softness that cuts straight though to his core. Strawberry blonde locks fall gently just above the pair of magnets freezing him in place.

He can still feel the chaos tearing through his veins - emanating from the gold plated gun stuffed in his waistband - and suddenly he can’t be here anymore. Can’t meet this wide-eyed gaze that’s been locked on his for the past God-knows-how-long anymore.

Can’t see blue alive and concerned when he just left it cold and void somewhere in oblivion.

She’s looking at him like he’s on the brink of madness. He thinks maybe he is.

Apparently, it’s backlist rec day over here and I’m not sorry. This one is another technical WIP but the chapter works as a standalone (BUT if the author decided to return to it I WOULD NOT BE MAD). It’s a what if Beth and Rio met pre-canon and it works so!!! well!!!! The tension and fascination and build are all *chef’s kiss* plus the writing is gorgeous and lyrical and ugh, I love it.

for a moment we were strangers by openhearts

“We got stuff,” Rio motions with a nod to the backpack Beth hadn’t noticed when they arrived hanging on the back of one of the chairs at the island.

She swallows and turns back to the dishes, realizing Rio apparently means to sleep there , assuming the place isn’t bugged.  Or for some kind of cover story if it is.  She turns and fixes Rio with a narrow-eyed stare, studying his face, the corner of his jaw especially prominent from the angle she’s looking up at him.  He’s methodical about drying each dish and setting it back on the rack, maddeningly ignoring her hard stare, so when he goes to take the next plate from her hands she grips it tightly and gets his attention.

“Hey.”

“What you on about now?” he asks, irritated.

It gets her gut uneasy, how he’s just . . . there, settling in, in ways he never had before, no matter how nonchalantly he would let himself in through her locked doors.  

“This is,” Beth tries, failing, to find words for it, “. . . it’s weird .”

This one takes place post 204 and Rio and Marcus end up spending a long weekend staying with Beth and Emma for reasons (that work, for the record, I’m just not trying to summarize rn) and it’s domestic and cute but honestly my fav part of it is how weirded out Beth is by how easily they slip into sync. The story does an excellent job balancing where they are in canon (uneasy post-sex truce) with a snapshot of what they could be if they got over themselves (HA! as if) and Beth is DEEPLY FREAKED which makes her slow slide into realizing she could maybe sort of kind of oh shit like it/him??? that much more satisfying.

Not So Careful by @bensonstablers

When he doesn’t answer, her eyes go to his but he’s too busy watching the letter opener which is still pressed against the back of his hand. Curiously, Beth runs it up his arm, careful not to press too hard, and smiles a little as he shivers. Pulling her leg up onto the bed, she shuffles closer to him before pressing the tip of the sword to his chest and slowly circling his left nipple with it, being sure not to get too close.

“You ain’t gotta be that careful.”

And when she lifts her eyes to meet his, he’s got that look. The one that always makes a lump form in her throat and for her to fall back into bed with him without a single thought of what they have to do that day. Only thing is, this time they’ve got nothing to do for the rest of the weekend and well, staying in bed the entire time had seemed like an appealing idea so she allows herself to give in a little to that look.

It makes me EXTREMELY SAD that knifeplay ranked so low on the kink survey so I’m gonna need y’all to check out this V V V EXCELLENT example of it and come back and tell me you’re sorry and you voted wrong. I am v reasonable what are you talking about.

love (where it wasn’t supposed to be) by @lilliloves

"You know what I can't stand?" Rio asks, stepping closer. It's a rhetorical question but he pauses for a second and watches Dean sniff, watches a bead of sweat trickle down his forehead, watches him shift on both his feet as he contemplates making a run for it.

"A guy who don’t realize how good he's got it." Rio continues, looking Dean up and down in disgust. "A guy that will literally fuck up a good thing just to get his dick wet."

"Yeah, well I can't stand a guy who can have anyone he wants but chooses the married woman he's not entitled to.” Dean shoots back. "And I really can't stand the fact that you're always in the room with us even when you aren't there."

And who brings him into the room Dean hmmmmm????? Jk, jk (or am I). In this one Rio catches Dean out on the town with another woman (bc of course he is) and tries to call him out but whoops! gets called out himself. I really love the like, idk, undercurrent of wistful regret in this fic. I love Dean straight up calling Rio out on his feelings (spoilers but there’s an exchange right after this one that made me straight up holler), and, you know, obvs I am here for Rio making Dean feel like an ass. 

Hell Is Other People by makemanybraver

Rio: We're in Hell, Elizabeth! If you don't think you belong here, then repent! Don't fuck everyone in the room in hopes that you get to go out!

Beth: Why do I have to repent?!

Rio: Because you did some fucked up shit in your life, Elizabeth! You keep doing fucked up shit here, too! And you think you don't belong here!

Beth [screaming at the top of her lungs]: Because I don't!

This fic is existentially bonkers and I love it. It’s the kind of experimental format/homage/what have you kind of thing that I L O V E. Based on No Exit by Jean-Paul Sartre, Beth, Rio, and Fitzpatrick are stuck together in a room in hell for all eternity. What more do you need, honestly.

Working On Things by odenkirk

Unknown Hold up, Elizabeth. I'm really thinkin about you here.

Beth turned her face into the pillow, effectively suffocating herself for a moment, but thinking it was a good trade off for the way the cool silk of her pillowcase chilled her skin.

She lifted her head to glance at the still sleeping Dean before replying.

Beth I'm thinking about you too. But this can't happen.

She wanted him to know she wanted him, but she also thought that admitting she was already there would save Rio from trying to convince her. She wanted him, but morals had to win just once in a while.

YES this is technically Beth/Dean while also being Beth/Rio BUT it’s also sort of Rio/Dean and I am HERE FOR THE DIVERSITY OF SHIPPING leave me alone who asked you.

Five Times He Knew What She Was Thinking, and One Time He Didn't by JoeyLee

Aight, so tell ‘em I was hittin’ it. Said deliberately blunt, eyes locked on her face the whole time, just to see those blue eyes widen. She looked so shocked that he almost laughed, so he softened it teasingly just to keep her going. Oh, I’m sorry, sweetheart, tell ‘em we were makin’ love.

Then he just watched her, just watched her face, just fucking fascinated. Her lips were parted and her eyes were big as saucers, and…there it was. Before she could look away flustered, he watched the thought go through her mind. Him and her together.

He wondered what she was picturing or where. Them in the back seat, her bed, a motel?  Her on top or him from behind or his face between her legs?

Whatever it was, the blush started immediately, and he watched it bloom out from her cheeks to her hair. Then she was tearing her eyes away to gulp a little.  But it didn’t knock her down for long before she was looking back. And then, wait, was she actually asking him how to go about telling a fed they were fucking?

Okay this is another technical WIP but works as a standalone. I am absolutely fucking feral for character POV takes of canon scenes and this is a supremely excellent take on Rio POV of some notable scenes from the pilot through 204. Imo it brilliantly captures Rio’s voice and I love it a lot. 

HEADS UP I am absolute shite at tracking ao3 to tumblr unless people have specifically told me someone’s ao3/tumblr name SO if you recognize any of the non-tumblr authors on please lmk so I can tag them and YES I recognize that I am asking y’all to do things for me throughout this entire post and I’M SORRY OKAY I’M A WHOLE ASS MESS LOVE YOU BYE

[westfalloutboy]

Ferrets and Cowardly Lions

Special thanks to @devilrising for being my beta for this piece, you’re the best <3 I haven’t really written Drarry before so this was a fun project. I’ve always wished that there was more fanfic about Hary and Draco being professors together and being in a relationship so I just decided to write my own. If you have any prompts for professors Drarry send them to me!

Harry Potter just totally, absolutely, sucked as an Auror.

 “’Mione, I just don’t know anymore, I don’t think that I’m meant to be an Auror,” Harry said with a sigh, running his hand over his face in exhaustion. He was currently sitting in his best friend’s office as she read over the multiple files on her desk, every so often taking a moment to have a bite from her lunch that Harry had brought.

“That’s what you said after you decided you didn’t want to do quidditch either,” she pointed out, not bothering to look up from her files. “Remember, Ginny tried to get you to try out for the Chudley Cannons and you purposefully messed it up.”

“I did not! I just had a sore shoulder that day!” He exclaimed, sitting up in his seat. “And why would I ever want to be on the Chudley Cannons team?”

Hermione simply shrugged her shoulders and looked up at her best friend. “What are you going to tell your partner when you resign?” She asked, dropping the quidditch talk.

“Ron will be fine,” Harry said, waving his hand dismissively.

“The same Ron who gave you the silent treatment for a week after you told him you didn’t like the Cannons? The one who has dreamed about the two of you being partners since fifth year?”

Harry slumped back down in his chair. “Fuck.”

“I think if you find a good job that would be a good replacement that maybe he would be a little more understanding of it…maybe,” she said with a grimace.

“You’re right,” he murmured, racking his fingers through his hair.

…   …   …   …

“You’re what!?” Ron shouted at his best friend.

“Ronald! Rose is trying to sleep!” Hermione shouted from another room. Harry grimaced and leaned back from the fire call, scared that Ron would reach through and strangle him.

“I’m quitting the Aurors, Ron. I’m miserable, I hate it,” Harry said, leaning back on his heels. “Look, I thought that being an auror was what I wanted but after four years of it, I’m just not happy doing it. I don’t know if maybe it’s because defeating Voldemort sapped it out of me and I didn’t realize it, or what. But being an Auror, it’s just not my calling. I keep getting in trouble with Robards for going against orders, I don’t like following the auror rules, I just want to be able to do my own thing, and I don’t know, I can’t do that as an auror.”

“Well, what-what are you going to do?” Ron spluttered.

“Well, I reckon, I don’t know.” Harry scratched at his head. “I think- I want to take some time to find myself. My entire life I’ve been told I needed to defeat Voldemort, but after that, I wasn’t really left with any real direction.”

“Well, if you need any help, you know ‘Mione can help you find a job. It’s one of the perks of being best friends with the Minister,” he said, giving Harry a wry smile.

“Thanks mate, but this is something I need to figure out on my own,” Harry told him, giving his best friend a smile of his own.

1 year later

“Someone needs to talk to him,” Hermione hissed, looking down at the man who was currently passed out on her couch. Harry’s glasses were cracked, he was wearing sweatpants that Hermione was quite certain did not start out the colour that they currently were, and a baggy Falmouth Falcons shirt.

“I’ve already tried, he won’t listen,” Ron huffed, looking down at his best friend. For the past year, while Harry was supposedly finding himself, he had travelled the world, gotten a few tattoos, and turned into a lazy drunk. Pretty much in that order.

Harry let out a loud snore and rolled over on the couch.

“Oi! Harry! Wake up!” Ron shouted, kicking his friend lightly in the back.

“’M sleeping, go ‘way,” Harry mumbled.

“You need to go home, Harry, now,” Hermione said with an exasperated sigh. “You have a meeting with Headmistress McGonagall at noon.”

Harry shot up from his spot. “What?”

“McGonagall wants to meet with you at Hogwarts today at noon, remember? We had an entire conversation about this last week,” Hermione huffed.

“Why am I meeting Minerva?” He mumbled, rubbing his face tiredly.

“She didn’t say, she just asked to meet with you, now get up, go to Grimmauld Place,  take a shower and for the love of god shave that disgusting beard. Merlin, Harry,” Hermione exclaimed.

Harry scowled as Ron yanked him off the couch and led him to their fireplace. “It’s been a nice time having you here mate, but it’s time for you to go,” he said, clapping Harry on the back. Harry scowled and headed back to his own home. 

…

“To what do I owe the pleasure, Headmistress?” Harry asked, slowly sitting down in the green corduroy chair that sat in front of McGonagall’s giant desk.

“Mrs. Granger wrote me a letter claiming that you were in need of a calling,” she said simply, taking off her glasses and folding them up before she set them on the desk. “My Defense Against the Dark Arts professor has decided that she vehemently hates children and I am in need of a new professor before the start of the new school year.”

“I don’t think I would be a very good teacher,” Harry said with a laugh.

McGonagall raised her eyebrows. “Are you so sure, Mr. Potter?” She asked, folding her hands in front of her on the desk primly. “You’re the Savior of the wizarding world, you were an auror for what? Four years?”  She asked.

“And?” Harry asked, leaning back in his seat.

“And when you were only a fifth year did you or did you not teach a group of students Defense Against the Dark Arts?” She asked.

“Well, that was just because Umbridge wasn’t teaching us anything and we were in the beginning of a war with Voldemort!” Harry exclaimed.

“One year, Mr. Potter, that’s all I ask. Be the Defense Professor for one year, and if you don’t like it, you can leave and go back to getting drunk and passing out in the Granger family’s house.”

“How do you know about that?” He demanded.

“Mrs. Granger and I are friends, we keep up with one another, Mr. Potter. Now, Winky here shall show you to your new quarters and help you get settled. Then, the fun begins and you get to get started planning for your first year here. You still have three months so that will be plenty of time,” she said just as the house elf appeared and looked up at Harry.

“I didn’t even agree!”

“You will do a splendid job, my boy,” Dumbledore said from his portrait behind McGonagall.

Before Harry could even continue to argue, Winky had dragged him out of the room.

3 years later

“Professor Potter!” A first year shouted as he bursted into Harry’s office, tears streamed down his face.

Harry looked up from his grading and frowned. “What is it, Tommy?”

“P-Professor Malfoy took ten points from Gryffindor because I s-said his name wrong,” he sobbed, hiccuping slightly between words. “We-we’re gonna lose the House Cup because of me!”

“We aren’t going to lose the Cup because of the smelly ferret,” Harry told him, ruffling his hair. 

The young boy looked up at him. “Promise?” He asked, his eyes wide. 

“Promise, just you wait, we’re going to win just like Gryffindors do every single year,” Harry said and stood up. “Now, it’s past curfew so let us get you back to the common area and you go up and get some sleep.”

Tommy nodded and followed Harry back to the Gryffindor commons. Once Harry was absolutely sure that the young boy was okay, he headed straight to the dungeons to find a certain Potions professor.

 Not even bothering to knock on the Slytherin’s office door, Harry waltzed in and leaned against the door jamb and stared at the blond man. Draco had himself bent over a large textbook. 

“You really took ten points for him saying your name wrong?” Harry asked, looking amused. Draco jumped and glared at the man in his doorway. 

“Shut the door, were you raised by muggles?” He snapped. 

“Actually, I was,” he said, giving Draco a pointed look before he shut the door and took a seat on the green velvet couch. 

“He called me Professor Mafloy,” Draco said, scowling. 

“Mafloy? That’s it?” Harry asked, raising his eyebrows. 

“I told you, Potter, Slytherins are winning the Cup this year. You and your cowardly Gryffindors are getting far too cocky, and the Slytherins deserve to prove that we are in fact the superior house,” the lanky man said with a sniff. 

“If you say so, now what exactly are you doing?” Harry asked. “I’ll just get you back and take twenty points from Parkinson’s kid tomorrow.”

“Working on a new potion,” he murmured, writing something down in the large leather bound book. “Pansy will in fact show up and throw you in the lake and you very well know it.”

“Has she forgiven her son for getting sorted into Hufflepuff yet?” Harry asked, thinking about the poor eleven year old boy who was still getting howlers from his mother. His twin sister, on the other hand, was sitting very happily in Slytherin, just how their mother wanted.

“Unfortunately, Blaise has not had very much success in getting her to stop being angry,” he said.

“It’s not Zachary’s fault that he’s a Hufflepuff, I mean you’ve met the kid, he’s the nicest child in his year,” Harry stated. Draco shook his head. 

“He’s the first non-Slytherin in the entire Parkinson line,” Draco pointed out.

“And he’s sitting happily in Hufflepuff where he belongs, the boy wouldn’t survive in Slytherin, I’m still unsure as to how he survives with Pansy as his mother,” Harry stated. While everyone in all of Hogwarts were sure that Harry and Draco absolutely hated each other, that wasn’t entirely true. While in front of the students and faculty, Harry and Draco were enemies, in the private rooms of their offices, the two had actually become wonderful friends. Neither were absolutely positive how it had happened, Harry reckoned it started when Draco had run into Harry when the Gryffindor was moving into his quarters, and for the first time since eighth year, saw one another. Draco had awkwardly helped Harry pick up his box that he had spilt and walked with him to his new living quarters. 

From there, the two had an unsteady, awkward friendship that after three years blossomed. Being the youngest professors at Hogwarts, and having as much history between them as they did, it made their camaraderie interesting, but easy. If one of them had a difficult day of classes, the two would meet, either in their office or their rooms and drink and talk absolute shit about their students. Sometimes they would talk about the nightmares they both still struggled with. Other times, they would talk about how they had both felt so entirely lost before they found their places back at Hogwarts. While no one but the two of them knew that they were friends, they had learned everything about one another. 

So much so that it almost felt like Harry knew Draco’s friends as well as they knew their own. But, before they knew it, the two of them were no longer calling one another Potter and Malfoy. Now they were simply Harry and Draco. Unless one of them was irritated. 

“You have anything to drink in here?” Harry asked, looking around the office. Draco’s office was not what anyone would have ever expected for Draco Malfoy. The walls were all covered with shelves and cabinets. The right wall was nothing but potions, potions ingredients, and other questionable objects that Harry was slightly too scared to ask Draco about. The left wall was absolutely nothing but books, as was the wall behind Draco’s desk. The wall in the front held Draco’s awards and achievements. The man didn’t boast about it, or even really talk about it, but he had become one of the most accomplished Potions masters in the entire wizarding world. 

Not very many people were happy about a former death eater being so accomplished at potions, but Harry was beyond proud.

“No, you know I don’t keep drinks in my office, especially not this close to potions. unlike you, I don’t want to have to worry about students breaking into my office for alcohol.”

“That’s only happened twice,” Harry pointed out. 

“Twice! Potter! Twice!” He gave his best friend a look. “How on earth have students gotten into your office and stolen alcohol from you not once, but twice?”

He shrugged. “Their charms teacher is amazing at their job.”

“That’s obviously it,” Draco snorted and stood up straight. He brushed his robes off and looked Harry up and down. “What kind of professor wears jeans?”

“We are not getting into that conversation right now,” Harry said and stood up. “Now, let’s go to your rooms so I can get a drink and you can explain to me how calling you Professor Mafloy is deserving of taking ten points from a first year.”

Draco chuckled and followed Harry out of his office. “He started crying as soon as I took the points away,” he said, a small smirk on his face. 

“Draco.”

“All I’m saying is that Gryffindors are undeserving of their title of being courageous. I have yet to meet a Gryffindor who isn’t scared of me.”

“What am I?” Harry scoffed. “Chopped liver?”

Draco just scoffed and shook his head before the two headed to his rooms. 

The next day, Harry barged through the headmistress’ office with a scowl on his face. 

“Minerva I am over it!” He shouted, unceremoniously falling into the chair in front of her desk. “Malfoy has crossed a line! He took ten points from one of my students for calling him Professor Mafloy! Ten points!”

Before Minerva could even bother to open her mouth, the door to her office slammed open once again, this time a potions professor marched his way into the office. 

“All of Gryffindor House has started calling me Professor Mafloy! I’m taking a thousand points!” He roared. Minerva let out a sigh and looked at the two grown men before her. 

“Honestly, Gentlemen, you have been colleagues for three years now, don’t you think it’s time to be done with these petty arguments?” She asked tiredly. “The two of you should have left all of this behind after the war.”

“He has his students calling me Mafloy, Minvera, Mafloy,” Draco ground out. Harry smirked. 

“It could be worse, I could have them all call you Professor Ferret,” Harry said, crossing his arms, absolutely pleased with himself. He honestly didn’t even have to tell the Gryffindors to call Draco Mafloy, they had decided to do that themselves. 

“Ferret!?” Draco all but screeched and looked at the Headmistress. “Minerva!”

“I am not getting in the middle of the two of you and your mindless squabbling. Mr. Potter, I advise you to cease and desist on calling Mr. Malfoy anything but his given name. The same goes for your Gryffindors. And if I hear about either of you needlessly taking points from one another's house, I will take your point privileges away, do I make myself clear?”

“Yes Ma’am,” both men said dutifully. 

“Good, now go to your next classes,” she said, dismissing the two professors. 

The two stomped out of the office and Draco glared at Harry. 

“I hate you,” he muttered and Harry gave him a cheeky smile. 

“I hate you too, Professor Mafloy,” he said before he spun on his heel and headed to his first class of the day, letting out a yelp as Draco’s stinging hex hit him on the heel. He flicked two fingers at the blond man before he turned out of the hall.

…

Draco clenched his jaw when he saw the stuffed ferret sitting on his desk. “Potter? Was this your doing?” He demanded, not even bothering to turn to look at the man who was currently smothering away his amusement. 

“Would you even believe me if I told you no?” He asked, coming up and picking up the stuffed Ferret. “Aw, Malfoy, it looks just like you,” Harry cooed.

“Remember that statement next time you accept a drink from me, or a hangover potion, Potter.”

“You ruin all of my fun,” Harry said sullenly, as he looked at the white ferret. “But no, this was not my doing. I believe a certain Headmistress left it for you,” he told his friend as he picked up a note that sat on Draco’s desk. 

Draco snatched it and scowled at the paper. “Let this be a reminder that I will take your point privileges away.” He looked up at Harry sharply. “Did she leave you a threat too?”

“Yes,” he said, a scowl now on his face as well. “A stupid little lion that was crying. She’s mean.”

“She is,” Draco agreed before he grabbed the stack of papers. “Your rooms or mine tonight?”

“Mine, I don’t trust anything you try to give me to drink,” Harry said with a sigh. “Although, I will warn you, I have a boggart hiding in my room at the moment and I’m still not entirely for sure where it’s at.”

Draco raised his eyebrows. “How on earth do you lose a boggart?”

Harry laughed as the two walked out of Draco’s office together. “I’ll be honest, I am an absolutely lousy professor. I’m still not sure how I even got my job.”

“Nepotism, I would imagine. Considering your best friend is the minister.”

“My best friend is a lousy potions master, what are you talking about?” Harry asked, bumping his shoulder against Draco’s. Draco’s cheeks turned a light pink.

“Shut up, you git. You’re horrid when it comes to grading, and keeping up with your assignments, and creatures, you’re also pretty bad at keeping your Gryffindors out of trouble, but I won’t lie, you’re an excellent Defense professor. Probably one of the best that Hogwarts has ever had.”

“Draco,” Harry cooed. “That’s the nicest thing you have ever said to me!”

Draco glared at his best friend before heading up the stairs. 

“So, I’ve heard about some new colleagues that we should be getting,” Harry said conversationally as they got to his rooms. 

“And?” Draco asked, raising his eyebrows, the two of them walking in.

“And Hagrid is recommending Charlie Weasley to take over Magical Creatures, and Neville Longbottom just got a job offer to teach Herbology.”

Draco froze and stared at the man in front of him. “A Weasley and Longbottom?” He demanded. 

“At least it isn’t Ron?” Harry offered, pushing Draco into his rooms. 

“Thank Merlin it isn’t the Weasel, but still, Harry, I am going to have to deal with both of them?” He demanded as Harry poured the two of them both a glass of firewhiskey and they sat side by side on Harry’s old couch. 

“I think that you’ll be just fine,” Harry stated, patting Draco’s knee softly.  “Did I ever tell you I actually had a crush on Charlie?”

Draco glanced at him. “Merlin, Harry, just how many Wesleys did you have a thing for?” He demanded. 

Harry hummed and took a sip of his drink. “Three. You’re not allowed to know the third one because you’ll just make fun of me.”

That made Draco grimace. “Don’t tell me it was the Weasel.”

“Fuck no!” Harry said, absolutely horrified at the very thought. “It was George.”

“No kidding,” Draco laughed. 

“Unfortunately George is very straight and very much interested in his wife. Charlie, on the other hand, a few years ago he was trying to figure out his sexuality and I was going through my weird journey of self discovery. I got sex, Charlie realized he was asexual. Kinda bruised my ego won’t lie,” Harry said. 

Draco snorted, something that once upon a time would have shook Harry to his core to hear Draco Malfoy do something so undignified. “My first time was with Theo.”

“Gross!”

“Not nearly as bad as the time I got so fucked that I tried to fuck Greg.”

Harry choked and looked at his friend. “No!”

Draco’s cheeks went red. “Unfortunately. He turned me down, thank heavens.”

“You and Goyle,” Harry laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. The two continued talking about their past conquests as Harry’s floo opened up and someone stepped through. 

“Harry could you possibly- Malfoy?” Hermione said, confused. 

“What’d you mention-Malfoy?” Ron said, looking at the two men sitting uncomfortably close to one another on Harry’s couch. Draco coughed and rapidly stood up. 

“Well, Potter, thank you for the drink but I do believe it’s time I retire to my rooms,” he said, brushing off his pristine trousers. 

“Draco,” Harry said with a sigh. “Finish-“

“I have some grading to get done,” he said before quickly leaving Harry’s rooms. 

Ron frowned. “That was weird, what was Malfoy doing here? Why was he here?” He asked. 

“We were having drinks,” Harry said with a sigh, setting his glass down. “What did you need?”

“I didn’t know that you and Malfoy were friends,” Hermione said, sitting on the couch next to Harry.

“Yes, Draco and I are friends, we’ve been friends. Now, what did you need,” Harry said impatiently. He wasn’t trying to be rude to his friends, it was just that he enjoyed spending a few hours each night with Draco. It was the thing he looked forward to most throughout the day. 

Ron gave his best friend a confused look. “You’re friends with the ferret?”

Harry made a face. “Don’t call him that. What did you need?”

“Well, we were going to see if you wanted to get drinks considering we haven’t seen you in weeks,” Hermione said, crossing her ankles. 

“But it seems that you’re already ahead of us,” Ron said dryly. “Seriously Harry, the ferret?” He demanded. 

“Yes, Ron, the ferret, we’ve been friends for a while now,” Harry said. 

“Oh,” Ron said and made a face. “Why?”

“Why are we friends?” Harry asked, glancing over at the man. 

“Yes, why are you friends with Malfoy? Think about everything he put you through! He’s a horrible person! Do you not remember seventh year?” Ron demanded. 

“You mean when he lied about recognizing me? Or what about eighth year when he apologized to all of us for letting his parents influence him? You have no idea who Draco is anymore, he’s an amazing person,” Harry exclaimed defensively. 

“Harry,” Hermione said slowly. “Is there something that we’re missing here?”

“What do you mean? We’re friends, so what?” Harry asked, shrugging his shoulders. He stood up and poured both Ron and Hermione something to drink. 

“That didn’t look like being just friends,” Ron mumbled. “You were...cuddling. Wait, are you together?!”

“We were just sitting together and talking, it wasn’t cuddling, Ron. We aren’t together”

“Harry, do you like him?” Hermione asked, staring at the man wide eyed. 

“What? No? I mean why would I?” Harry spluttered. 

“I mean, it’s pretty obvious mate,” Ron said, scratching his chin thoughtfully. 

Harry handed the two their glasses and slumped his shoulders. “Is it obvious?” He asked, frowning. 

“I mean, we’ve known you since you were eleven, we’ve seen how you were with Cho, and Ginny, and even George,” Hermione said and Ron shuddered. 

“Don’t remind me of that,” he mumbled. 

“And you’ve always had a weird obsession with Malfoy,” she continued, elbowing her husband in the side. “It makes sense.”

“It does?” Ron asked, looking between his two friends. 

“Well of course it does, it could be one of the reasons why Harry has been so happy these last few years,” Hermione reasoned, taking a sip of her firewhiskey. 

“Well, don’t worry, nothing is going to happen between Draco and I. He’s definitely not interested.” Harry sat across from the two and crossed his legs. 

“He looked interested,” Hermione said.

Ron looked at her. “Did you not see how fast he ran out of here? Are you sure about that?” 

“Honestly, Ronald, he ran out of here because  of us,” Hermione huffed.

Harry let out a sigh and rested his face in his hands. He was going to lose his mind. 

….

“I can’t believe you ran out of my rooms like a Hufflepuff last night,” Harry said with a sigh, falling onto the couch in Draco’s office. “I was stuck dealing with both of them questioning me for the rest of the night.”

Draco looked up from the potions essays he was grading and frowned. “Why were they questioning you?”

Harry let out an awkward laugh. “Well, uh, funny thing is, they thought that we were er, together.”

Draco slowly set down his quill and smirked. “Together, huh? Cute.”

“Shut up, Prat.”

“I don’t think you’d be able to handle being with me,” Draco said, a small smirk still on his face.

“Trust me, I’ve been handling you just fine as it is, if we were in a relationship my life would probably be a lot easier,” Harry said with a shrug. 

Draco raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Of course, Molly would stop hinting at me that I needed to get back together with Ginny, Ron and Hermione would stop trying to hook me up with random Ministry friends, and best of all, I’d have you in my bed. I’d say it wouldn’t be too horrible,” Harry finished, kicking his feet up onto the couch. Draco came around his desk and walked towards Harry before he looked down at him. 

“You’d want me in your bed? Is that right?” He asked and Harry gave him a sly smile. “Where did you get this confidence?”

“Ron and Hermione encouraged me,” Harry told him.

“Well, then what exactly are we doing in my office?”

A slow smile grew on Harry’s face. Draco pulled him off of the couch and took Harry’s hand in his and dragged him out of the office. “We’re going to get caught,” Harry laughed. 

“We won’t, don’t worry Potter,” Draco said before they rushed up the stairs and went straight to Harry’s rooms. 

Draco laid his head on Harry’s chest. “So we’re doing this?” He asked, running his hand up and down Harry’s side. 

“Yeah, I think we are,” he murmured. 

“Can we keep it quiet for a while?” Draco asked, tilting his head back to look at Harry. “As much as I enjoy this, I have to admit, I still have fun making everyone think we hate one another.”

“You just like to yell at me in front of people,” Harry joked, kissing the top of his head. 

“That too,” Draco said, smiling.

1 year later

“I heard that Professor Malfoy and Professor Potter are dating,” a third year Hufflepuff, Molly whispered to her Defense partner. 

Harry smiled and leaned down between the two girls. “What makes you think that?” He whispered. 

“Oh, uh, Professor Potter,” she said awkwardly. 

“How about we get back to working on our freezing spells?” He suggested before waltzing up to the front to watch everyone work on the spell. 

“Rodger, no stinging hexes! Five points from Slytherin,” he said. 

Later when Harry walked into his rooms, he found Draco glaring at him in his bedroom. “Five points for a stinging hex?” He demanded, pinching Harry’s side. “What happened to not taking points for stupid reasons!”

“He cast a stinging hex! It wasn’t even his partner that he cast it on!” Harry said, smacking his boyfriend’s hands away from him. “Why are you being grumpy?” He demanded. 

“Because, Potter, one of my students saw this!” He exclaimed, pulling the scarf off of his neck and showing a large love bite. 

Harry smirked. “You weren’t mad when I left it on your neck this morning,” he said, wrapping his arms around Draco’s waist. “So it’s fine, just use a glamour tomorrow. Now, I’m tired, it’s nearly midnight, I’ve been grading and I’m ready to change into something comfier.”

“Do you know how many questions I got about it?” Draco demanded as the two of them changed into their pyjamas. 

“It’s fine, we’re going to have to go public eventually,” Harry said, pushing Draco onto his bed and straddling him. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot, lately.”

“Thinking about what?” Draco questioned, staring up at the man. 

“I think it’s time for us to come out and be public,” Harry said, taking Draco’s hands in his. “I mean, all of our friends and family know, and just because we’re together doesn’t mean that we need to stop harassing each other. I’m still going to call you a prat when you’re picking on students.”

“What do you think people would say?”

Harry hummed. “I don’t think it truly matters,” he said, giving Draco a soft kiss. “I just want to hold your hand during mealtimes and sit with you during quidditch matches.”

Draco pursed his lips for a moment. “I think I can handle that,” he said. He gave Harry a soft kiss just as someone knocked on the door to Harry’s quarters. “I’ve got it,” he said and kissed Harry again before he climbed off of Harry’s bed and answered the door.

“Harry, it’s a Gryffindor!” Draco called and Harry let out a whine. This wasn’t what he meant when he told Draco he was ready to come out.  

He went out to the front room and frowned when he saw the Gryffindor prefect, Aaron, sitting nervously on the couch with Leslie, a first year. “What’s going on?”

“I-I just miss my parents,” she sniffed, hugging what looked like Draco’s stuffed ferret to her chest. 

“I’ll get some tea,” Draco murmured. “I might have some Peace Draught lying around here somewhere.”

“Love, quit leaving your potions in my quarters,” Harry huffed before he sat next to Leslie. “How about we floo your parents?”

“Th-they’re muggles,” she sniffed, rubbing her eyes. Harry let out a hum and crossed his legs. 

“Well, that does put a damper on things, doesn’t it?” He mused and looked at the prefect, still staring at the men in shock. “Aaron, you can take a seat if you would like.”

Aaron slowly sat on the other side of Leslie just as Draco came back with a tray of teacups. 

“Miss Hay, your’s has some drops of Peace Draught in it, if that is okay with you,” he said.

“Thank you Professor Malfoy,” she said, taking the tea cup. 

“You’re welcome,” he said, a small smile on his face before he looked at Aaron. “It was a good call to ask for help, Mr. Evans. Professor Potter is excellent at calming down cowardly lions.” He carefully set the tray of tea on the small coffee table.

“Draco,” Harry chided before he put his attention back to the now calm little girl. “How about tomorrow, you and I will write a letter to your parents and set up a time for them to come and visit you?”

Leslie looked up at him wide eyed. “You can do that?” She asked. 

“Of course, I’m Harry Potter, I can do whatever I want,” he said with a small smile. 

“Prat,” Draco murmured, smacking the back of Harry’s head. “I’m heading back to bed, let me know if you need anything.”

He leaned down and pressed a chaste kiss to Harry’s lips before he went back to Harry’s bedroom. 

“Well, how about the two of you finish your tea and I’ll take you back to your rooms?” Harry suggested, taking a sip of his own tea. 

“Are you and Professor Malfoy dating?” Aaron blurted before slapping a hand over his mouth. 

Harry gave the sixth year an amused smile. “Well, I’m not sure if that is really any of your business, is it?” He asked.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. 

“Five points from Gryffindor for being nosey!” Draco called from Harry’s room. Harry rolled his eyes. 

“Five points to Gryffindor for helping out your fellow student,” he said, winking at Aaron. Once the little girl was calmed down, Harry walked the two Gryffindors back to their rooms before he returned to his own where Draco was already fast asleep. Harry smiled before he climbed into bed with him and kissed the side of the Slytherin’s head softly. Hopefully they wouldn’t wake up being the topic of everyone’s discussion.

*Note. I still want to write more in this universe so I’ll be writing more stories about it. This was mainly just setting it up, but I think it’s done for now. The final scene was inspired by this drarry post by @spielzeugkaiser.

Part two is now here 

[semperintrepida]

fic ask post: 2, 5, 24, 35!

Damn, I love it when fellow writers stop by. (Seriously folks, if the letters “TLOU” mean anything to you, go and check out @ehefic 's stuff.)

All right then. I’ve had half a bottle of wine and I’m feeling... truthy. Here goes.

2. How do you spend your time when it comes to fanfiction? Are you primarily a fic reader, writer, or a perfect 50/50 split of both?

This is where I get to admit that I’m terrible at fandom. These days, my ratio is 1%/99%. Always be writing.

I kind of hate this because I feel like an asshole. I have a “TO READ” list a fucking mile long. I want to support my writer friends. But I also have limited time and a burning desire to get my own words out on the page.

(It doesn’t help that I’m a bit of an idea/verbiage sponge, who lives in terror of inadvertently ripping off someone else’s plot/clever turn of phrase, etc. I know there’s nothing original under the sun, but I still worry. So I really don’t like reading while I’ve got WIPs cooking.)

5. What are your fanfic pet peeves? Do they have a huge effect on whether or not you decide to read something?

HAHA yes. Burly detective syndrome (when writers refer to characters by descriptors such as “the blonde”, “the brunette“, “the doctor”) makes me nope right out of a story. And it’s everywhere in fanfic. (It’s extremely easy to fix, too: use your characters’ names or their pronouns. Stop worrying about overuse or repetition. You’re fine. It’s fine. Your readers won’t notice.)

24. What’s a trope that you’d like to never hear about as long as you live, let alone write?

A/B/O and g!p, in equal measures. (No shade if that’s your jam, it just ain’t mine.)

35. How much has writing fic changed your life?

Eight years ago, I would have said writing fic changed my life in a bad way. I let the balance of it get all wrong. (I’m a Libra, such things matter.)

These days, I guess I’m feeling a bit meh about it.

I’m glad fic got me into writing fiction. I’m glad fic brought me some friendships, a few of which I’ve somehow managed to keep going like embers. I’m glad fic made me create this tumblr, because interacting with folks here has often been the highlight of my day.

But, but, but... sometimes I wonder what the fuck I’m doing spending all this time writing fic for a few thousand hits and a handful of feedback. (I’ve turned off my stats on AO3 via skins to keep my sanity, or I would have quit writing AC:O shit long ago.)

Sometimes I wonder if I should stop faffing about and put my effort into writing an original piece of historical fiction instead.

I wonder and wonder and wonder, and then I finish my drink, and go to bed, and wake up the next day eager to work on fic. It’s the circle of life.

[fic writer ask game]

[natthemess]

I’m writing a teenage!AU fanfic right now and I just realised that a lot of my inspiration is actually us, @glasmotte. And it’s making me miss my friends so much and I miss you so much so I’m very sentimental right now so bear with me.

Remember when we weren’t friends? Only having awkward conversations at the bus stop every weeks, me always joining you, you obviously not wanting me to do that. We were both so uncomfortable omg.

And then I found out you were a total nerd and dragged you everywhere along with me and we fangirled and suddenly we were best friends? And very affectionate?

Remember when I was reading under the table in English class and Mr P asked me “Nathalie, what are you doing under the table?” *puts the book away* “oh REAding???” and then just continue talking like nothing had happened?

Remember how Vaci fell asleep every time and Mr P just being his gay exasperated self?

Remember when we randomly held hands in English class that one time and Mr P stopped, looked at us and said “Awww you’re holding hands” like the gays that we all were?

Remember the both of us reading fanfic in chemistry class? Remember biology, where she explained everything in a very detailed way and then you asked me “Nat. What did she say we should do?” and I was absolutely obnoxious and asked if she could repeat it because I knew you cared about bio way more than I cared about that stupid class, and annoying teachers for you was cool.

Remember how I brought a bottle of wine to school for Sassy’s birthday and we shared it along with the cake Laura made, and it was a warm day in spring and we were basically tipsy for biology? And that was so wild.

Remember how every morning all of us would stand in a circle and we would all be very tired and dead and I’d talk to everybody and you would not, and I would just stand there hugging you?

Remember how I randomly wrote you those long-ass letters about how much I appreciated and loved you, and you would go all doe-eyed and silent and just hug me and be very overwhelmed with everything?

Remember our impromptu concerts everytime, everywhere we would go? Especially Chop Suey.

Remember music class? Bitch-San? “debussiv?” Me randomly moving to sit next to you, going from strangers to best friends in like a few days? Remember choir?

Remember the chaos that is my absolute love and adoration for you?

Because I do, and it’s very inspiring.

[beyondthetemples-ooc]

“Why” tags are going here because Tumblr’s a baby who can’t handle all these words at once. :P

Why:

#but i spent my whole life absolutely CONVINCED that wings belonged on my body. it just... tok me a good long while to figure out Why.

#Oh THAT'S why everyone's freaking out over that post.

#at first I was like ''Wow this is Srentha to the core!'' And then I read ''why this unreasonable answer at the sight

#honestly this is why i'm basically addicted to empty-mind meditation?

#??? why do people do these awful things to Good People though

#i don't know how or why and i don't remember ever having Learned about That Letter? but my mind automatically knew it was 'hath' somehow

#Of course that DOES beg the question of why a LORd of CHAOS doesn't... you know. CHANGE it? ??

#first of all: REM WHY ARE YOU COMING to OHIO of all places???

#okay but. randy how did they MEET what's the STORY why are they HATING on TEXAS

#or like. a Sarcastic Joke because cyborg was once like ''why aren't you miss mary sunshine''?

#''What are you DOING. You RUN. ALWAYS RUN.'' and i was like. ''why bother getting into adventures if you're gonna RUN though..''

#I don't know why but I always score better on Customer Service Questionaires when I choose responses like ''I'm sorry

#i've never seen that still before and I CAN;T FATHOM WHY because that is FANTASTIC!

#I don't know why but ''novice suddenly ends up with super incredibly powerful abilities'' is one of my FAVORITE TROPES!

#I have no idea how/why but these just gave me Massive Leyla and Srentha Feels.

#my usual turnaround time for Dreams to Real Life is about two weeks. not sure why but it happens to like 7 people in my immediate family

#Especially with the bells. I don't know why but bells always remind me of that place. ~<3

#Nobody intrinsically knows how to solve problems that hurt another person. That's why COMMUNICATION is so important!

#also: Good Post re: Why Danny is So Actually-Great

#why does everyone spell ''bear with me' like that?

#i know right? Why did I never think of that??

#why do i love this so much

#that's basically why Evanescence became my favorite band. it's not all romo-/sexually-centric

#i've always read it the same way and didn't notice Why Everyone Stopped Liking Her but that also brought that particular Change to light...

#groans eternally in Tumblr's direction. why even bother with all these updates.

#Oh THAT'S why Eda could do glyphs! /joke

#thaaaat's probably why Fancie Word Choice has always been a strength in my writing.... {lD;;;;;

#velvet and sheer... why have I never seen that combination before? It's GLORIOUS

#That's probably why he's so good at spontaneous Travelling too. Lots of practice when trying to find her... /owo

#This is why House and Senate votes count though! The President may have a lot of control over the military but a strong H+S

#I know MC Escher was a master of this (whatever This is) and that's why he's one of my favorite artists.

#okay but I'm intensely curious why he didn't have a plan to take HIMSELF out and thought he'd have to rely on THEM dsfndsgmfhdgj

#I wonder why he'd need to attack/defend while shifted? Can he also use such magic when he's not shifted?

#but I think that variety is why her every new album is so refreshingly Different.  Her singing ALONE improves so MUCH with every album!

#the only difference is that I imagined the fire came with smoke and that's why her gasp was so strangled and she grabbed her throa

#honestly this is why i'm basically addicted to empty-mind meditation?

#i'm cleaning my room and i misplaced it. badfnmkngjf;lk this is why i hate cleaning

#but scenes like this are why i love DC's latest gen of animated movies

#that Friends As Family theme was super important to why i love the 80's comics too..........

#this is why i read fanfic

#i think she feels slighted in some way but i can't pinpoint Exactly Why let alone HOW.

#and it's like.. Halfo f why lapis's characterization is so Shaky for me? Because the girl barely talks??? And she has like 7 Speech Modes

#^^^^ GUYS THIS WAS ALERINA. This is the environment Dove was raised in! This is why losing her mother tore her apart! ^^^^^

#This is so so SO important and delves deeply into why language is so important for learners and general humanity alike. ~<333

#that's why my tag for Old People Stories isn't specific to any generation. it's just Shitty Adults Being Shitty

#I write primarily about OCs and I know that's why my readership is so low. I write stories for a Dead Fandom that has declined sharply.

#you know? so that's why my Affirmations Tag is like 60% Steven UniversE Content at this point. 8F It's Helping Me Learn!

#It's a CIRCADIAN THING not an INSOMNIA THING. I don't know why my doctors don't believe it's NOT the same as INSOMNIA

#oh is THAT why my love language is ''all of them''?

#and i hardcore headcanon ry ouwearing glasses when he gets older. so why not?

#i Suck at the aCTUAL DRAWING art but i'm i na bit of a fallow period with the org and personal life. so why not?

#i'm already planning an aviary for the doves. so why not? (they'd be Very Separate from teh raven though. for obvious reasons)

#let's add to the Emotional Whiplash of Today pile. sure! why not!!

#but i got the dvd and i have vlc so why not use them i guess? i already had it in the drive for the extras and this way there's .....

#She can hop dimensions so why on Earth-- ALL the Earths-- hasn't she Been Relevant to ANY multi-timeline crisis yet???

#yes of fucking COURSE Dove and the rest are in Team Transition too!! Why on Earth-- on ANY earth! wouldn't I transition them too?!

#so why on earth did danny chase get shafted so hard?????

#about WHY or if she's GONNA be OKAY or HOW or--

#So gentle and soft and concerned and really quite quiet and subtle... which might be why others didn't pick up on the Love Vibe

#but the last one I reblogged didn't have that specified! 8O i don't know why one of my special interests is Unusual Instruments

#why WOULDN'T you snog a snitch if it could bring your dead loved ones back though? Why on Earth WOULDN'T you???

#but it's about ''they're very different. but they're friends!'' It just never talks about why or how that's important.

#(i think that's her full name for some reason but i don't know why or when i heard/saw it. somebody please correct me if i'm wrong!)

#I must be an Asker. I've never understood why people are so convinced they Can't Say No if someone asks?

#i also think PTSD makes you react to fear Differently from Pure Adrenaline Responses... but i can't unravel Why right now

#And also at the time I couldn't fathom why someone would think she was autistic. because i didn't know myself

#god this foreshadowing was just. so sincere and heart-rending and when this episode came out I *DID* wonder why she'd say that...

#I'm STILL trying to figure out why Srentha thought Dove was confessing that she has heartworm. (i know she Does Not in fact

#at first I was like ''Wow this is Srentha to the core!'' And then I read ''why this unreasonable answer at the sight

#i can't figure out why though

#If my Harmony Core theory is correct: it would explain why they're playing their music So Hard.

#the fact that my first reaction was ''why though'' is..... concerning?

#raven's like How? Why The HELL. and dove doesn't have a good answer besides ''it felt like i needed it.''

#fun fact: i misread this as ''zatana zatara / MICHIGAN '' and i was like... ''why the fUCK--''

#i don't know why there's all this fanart of

#and also sugar skulls are delightful but you should really know what they MEAN and REPRESENT and WHY they're sweet and flamboyant

#if someone is passionate; angry; or distressed over a topic: She doesn't always understand WHY until they EXPLAIN it. If they do at all.)

#oh hey why was THAT line never a meme

#this is why we need

#but that doesn't make it any less FRUSTRATING because I've been wORKING THROUGH the pptsd and why won't it STOP?

#(because that's why we have to pay for everything from movies to individual channels now. let's be real)

#i've never understood why winter and fall were the only ~fashionable~ seasons for wearing black.

#I mean to be FAIR some of the government DID mobilize and that's why we got the Stimulus Bill.

#But DC... this bullshit is why we can't have nice things

#and as soon as I looked it up: y first thought was ''Oh is that why we call them Abner?'' My second was ''Is that what *I* am?''

#also if you're as powerful as zee it probably comes second-nature so why WOULDN'T you throw it around to stop an argument?

#okay but if SPINEL doesn't know then how/why would BLUE know

#what? no i didn't just stare at this for a solid two minutes and read it over five times. no.. why would I do that?

#that's because it's not ''cool'' to hate on it so why would it be ''cool'' to like it ironically?

#why WOULDN'T you snog a snitch if it could bring your dead loved ones back though? Why on Earth WOULDN'T you???

#but it's not like a ragey angry thing. it's like........ war of attrition? why yes i think i WILL sign the 47th petition for the same thing

#over and over again and rewound and replayed until i got the whole spell written down. why YES I'm a little hyperfixated! why do you ask!!!